Nightmares
by Vladgurl
Summary: MTrunks Timeline Never knowing your father and a mother reluctant to talk about it can be hard for a boy, even more for one who has the burden to protect Earth. But what does he do when he realizes that his biggest nightmare is more then just a bad dream?
1. Chapter 1

**Nightmares**

**Category: Angst, Drama**

**Rated: T for swearing and slight blood and violence**

**Disclaimer:** I don't under any circumstances own Dragonball Z or any of its power hungry, ego-inflated characters.

Ch1-Prologue

He watched closely as the cigarette butt disappeared into a cylinder snake of ashes shriveled by the countless others on the ashtray. His bright young eyes watched as the lavender haired woman reached into her pocket and retrieved another stick of weed and stuck it between her lips. With a flick of the flame of her lighter, the end of the cigarette grew cherry red and she heaved in the sweat burn of nicotine down her throat.

The lavender haired woman exhaled sharply, cigarette placed at the corner of her mouth, and returned to lying on her back to examine the underbelly of her machine, bent on finally finishing her project. She had noticed the curious eyes of her young six year old son staring at her, but chose to ignore him for the time, knowing what those curious eyes were going to ask her and at any moment; she didn't feel like having to discuss that particular matter today.

"Momma?" Came his high, slightly raspy voice.

"Momma is busy now Trunks." She replied not removing her eyes from the bottom of her invention. Wrench in hand she began to tighten bolts that were abundantly swathed across the bottom plates of solid iron and steel.

With a sigh, the purple haired boy lowered his head and stared at his feet. The woman half hidden under the enormous device knew that her son was still there, knowing that he never did give up on this particular subject that easily, he was always a stubborn one. She knew he would not let this go until he got her to talk again, like she always wound up doing.

"What was he like?"

With that question, the woman lowered her wrench from the bolt crying to be tightened. She closed her eyes and pulled herself from under her invention, still not looking at her son. She was fit for ignoring this discussion today, not entirely in the mood to be asked his usual daily array of questions that seemed to come on a routinely basic schedule. She avoided the persistent six year old and went to reach for the tool by her side; she grabbed it and then disappeared back under her massive creation.

"You asked me that question last week Trunks; do you expect me to say something different this week?" She said with slight annoyance in her voice.

The young boy only sighed and kept his gaze at his feet which he shuffled profusely. "Well, it's just that I really was hoping you'd tell me a story about him this time."

Bulma growled growing quite annoyed at the situation. She had wanted her time in the lab today to be without disturbances so she could work on her latest project. She smirked inwardly at that idea. She was, in her genius, in the process of finishing the very first time machine. For the past five and a half years she had been working on this project around the clock, day and night. After the androids had made their appearance and took away her entire life, she buried herself in building up her dream and making it a reality.

Mainly to keep her mind from dwelling on the painful memories that fateful day had brought her and stole the very people she cared most for. She would have gone insane and she knew it so burying herself in her work kept her mind busy and thoughts of how it could possibly help create a better future kept her moving forward.

Though, in light of it all, she had still a long ways to go until it was complete. Every time she thought she was almost there, something else would go horribly wrong and she needed to fix another problem. What aggravated her more, was that Trunks had now made it his duty to appear more then ever around the lab, something about "mother son bonding time" or something like that she read in one of those parenting guide books. However, she was soon regretting that she gave him the password to her lab. Though outside of the office she came out to cook meals and tend to Trunks, he still made it his personal job at pestering her during the time she most dearly wanted to be alone. She had tried changing the password many times, but no matter how much she tried, he always figured it out. She silently cursed her brains for letting Trunks inherit them.

She grew sick of this subject to. It started about two months ago. Trunks came to her at her lab, much like he had today, and asked about _him. _At first Bulma was surprised he had brought it up. He never had mentioned anything about him before and was startled when Trunks began to ask questions about him then. After that, Trunks just became more and more demanding about the subject. And it made her feel uneasy, because with remembering _him_ also brought back remembering what happened to him, and all her friends, that one fateful night.

Bulma grunted however, not in the mood to hear anything of it for the day.

"He came here as an ass and he died here as an ass." Was her cold reply, wrench tightening a loosened bolt. It was mainly a reply for herself rather then her persistent six year old.

Again Trunks only sighed, now a days this was the only response he got out of her. He suspected he might have pestered her too much about the subject of his father, but he just could get enough. What little building there were left after the android's attack, they had humbled education to mere shambled buildings and the other children had talked about their fathers. It only made him curious about his own. Never had his mother ever even mentioned his name, let alone who he was or what he was like. Of course Trunks always had questions as to why he was stronger then the other boy's at school, and why he had a strange scar at the base of his spine, but he dared not ask her in fear she would yell at him like she had before.

She would sometimes scream at him when he said the slightest thing, sometimes in her anger she would just go on and on screaming about things that didn't even involve the subject. Often times, he believed when she got like that she was no longer yelling at him, especially when she would occasionally call him Vegeta in her fit of rage, and it would scare him. When he finally got curious enough about his father, and the kids at school constantly picking on him for not having one, he asked her. Though at that time, she would ignore the question in general or quickly change the subject and tell him to clean his room or do his homework.

Eventually he had gotten her to talk, it wasn't much, but it was enough to make his eyes shine with amazement and pride. She told him only bits and pieces about the mysterious man and it immediately captivated him. She told him stories about how strong he was, and how proud he was, and of course, how stubborn he was.

Of course she secluded the part about him trying to kill her and take over the universe, that part seemed to naturally fall out of discussion. Though, the more he asked about who he was, and what he was like, and why this and that, she became more and more resistant and he didn't understand why. He could see with every discussion about him it would bring sorrow into her eyes as well as a shining glint he had never seen in his mother before.

Now a days, the shine was gone and only placed with bitterness and hatred. She seemed less willing to express anymore heroic stories about his father and only seemed to get angry when he brought this up. Of course, that didn't stop him, he was determined and stubborn, something his mother constantly reminded him that he inherited from his father.

In fact, those were the only times she ever spoke about him not prior to him asking.

"Well," Trunks dared to speak up again. "What about the first time you met him? You never told me that one."

"Don't you have homework to do?" She said flatly, eyes not leaving her work.

"Finished it." He replied with a child-like grin. Now she had no reason to avoid him.

Bulma sighed heavily and pulled the cigarette from her lips and stubbed it out. She sat up and carelessly chucked her wrench to her side. With a clank of metal it hit the floor and she glared at Trunks and his curious and hope filled blue eyes.

Bulma cursed her weakness for his big blue eyes and heaved one last sigh in surrender, one that brought a huge smile across her young's face. He promptly slid to the ground to form a comfortable sitting position, readying to hear the no doubt, amazing story about his father. So reluctantly Bulma crossed her legs, one mechanical prosthetic crossed with the sheen milky skin of her other leg.

"The first time I saw him face to face? Let's see…" She began to look skyward as the thoughts spiraled around her head.

"It was on another planet."

"Namek?" Trunks' asked since his mother had mentioned the planet before.

"Yes, he was looking for the dragonballs." Bulma explained.

"The dragonballs?" Trunks couldn't help but ask. "You mean those magical balls that could grant any wish? Why did he want them?"

Bulma sighed. "While your father was strong Trunks, he was also a terribly proud and selfish man, he wanted to wish for eternal power from the dragon by giving him immortality."

Trunks' eyes lit up in shock. "Why would he want that?"

Bulma shook her head. It was no use telling the boy to be quiet when he got rallied up like this. When he was this excited on the matter, he couldn't help but ask any and all questions that filled his head.

"Well," She began. "At that particular time, you father wanted to destroy this dastardly evil creature."

"Freeza!" Trunks shouted out almost gleefully, proud to know at least the answer to that question.

"Yes it was Freeza! Now shut the hell up or I won't continue the story." Bulma hissed glaring at Trunks who gulped and bit his tongue.

"Anyway- " She glared at him once more for good measure. "As I had told you about my escapades on planet Namek that involved Freeza, your father wanted the power in order to finally put a rest to the wretch once and for all."

"Wow, how noble." Trunks remarked and Bulma rolled her eyes. '_Boy if only this kid knew. Noble my ass, HA! The self-centered bastard.' _Bulma inwardly remarked. Ignorance was bliss she guessed, besides, it was probably for the best that she not mention that why his father wanted immortally was not for such a dignified reason. But somehow, she didn't think that that bit of information would help Trunks, from the parenting guide books she read, they had mentioned something about children's sensitivity to this subject or something along that line…

"Yes well, anyway." Bulma coughed, "I first saw him when he was battling this green hulk-looking son of a bitch. He threatened to blast us to the next dimension if we didn't give him the damn ball. After that your father finally came face to face with the little prick Freeza once and for all." With that, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out another Marlboro and a lighter. After lighting it, she puffed a few good times before exhaling a stream of smoke out her lips and nostrils, right into Trunk's little face, he only blinked and coughed a little.

"Well, what happened next?" Trunks asked impatiently.

Bulma took another drag and took her time exhaling another seam of smoke. "Well, in short terms he got his butt kicked and lost."

As soon as she said that Trunk's face fell and Bulma mentally kicked herself. _'God damn it look what you did now! Some genius you are, didn't you learn anything from reading those "How to raise a child: for single parents" books! This is what you get for skipping those chapters!"_ Yes she skipped plenty of chapters, and right after the point where they said you shouldn't swear in front of your kids she stopped reading them all together.

"Shit." Bulma mumbled and reached over to drape her arm over her son, hoping to restore some of his previous enthusiasm.

"Of course, he did give that tight ass Freeza a run for his money." Bulma smirked in between another drag, trying to raise back the respect that somewhat vanished partly from his eyes.

The attempt worked and a small smile soon returned on the purple haired boy's face. She would admit that looking at her son smiling with such pride made her feel nice for a change. Though she knew if her son knew half the things about who his father really was he would have something else besides a smile on his face. Of course, she would never tell him any of those things; the boy already had a hard life as it was.

"Well, I'll tell you this much Trunks, he did put up one hell of a fight. Shit, to see your father in the heat of battle was definitely a sight to behold. I may have not seen the battle against Freeza, but I can imagine it was really something." She gave a smirk to her son and he smiled back at her. After a minute or two in silence, Bulma smacked her hands on her knees and exhaled sharply.

"Okay, that's it you can leave now and clean your room, it looks like a damn pig's sty in there, you would think the roaches would be paying rent." Bulma urged with shooing motions with her hands, "And don't you dare throw everything under your bed again like you did last week, hear?" now that that was out of the way she could get back to her time machine.

"But that can't be over!" He whined. "I wanna hear more!" He spoke demanding like.

Bulma's eye twitched, if it was one thing she couldn't stand, it was being disobeyed – and when he raised his voice to her.

"Boy, "She said shortly, tight motherly scowl forming on her face. "You better get-in-that-damn-room and clean it up right now or I'll beat you so hard you'll wish the androids got to you first." Bulma's eyes glared feverishly at the boy. He gulped in fear and took a knowing step back.

"NOW!" She hollered when she got no response. Trunks visibly jumped at the power of her voice.

"Y-yes momma." he stuttered and dashed for the door out of the lab.

She glared at the boy as his mass of purple hair scurried out of the lab like a frightened mouse and the aging scientist snickered at her handy work when she heard the door slam shut. _'And where in those books does it teach you to do THAT I ask you. Ha!' _And with that, she looked about her for her precious wrench and disappeared under the time machine to finish up for the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Nightmares

Chapter 2

It had been a good few days since Trunks bothered his mother again. Fearing her motherly wrath and temper, he refrained from asking her many questions for the past few days. Of course, with just a few days break to give his mother time to cool down meant he would soon ask her again, and hope that she didn't chase him around the house with her belt again.

Today was Saturday Trunks realized with a grin, and that meant no school. He stretched in his bed before kicking his covers down to his feet and hopped out. He could smell the hot bacon and pancakes cooking up down stairs and his mouth watered. Running down the stairs in nothing but his white tee shirt and light blue boxers, Trunks made his appearance to the kitchen table to eat.

"Morning momma." Trunks recited half groggy as he crawled up into the chair.

Bulma turned around, clad in a long purple robe and cigarette in her mouth. "Morning baby." She replied and filled his plate with mounds of pancakes and bacon . Her hair was still tousled from bed, thrown into a careless messy bun, and she only wore little fuzzy slippers. Obviously she had gotten up only a little while before him.

Trunks licked his lips and dove for the syrup by his side and drenched his pancakes in the maple ooze, and as every child does at his age, squirted as much as he could on until either the bottle was empty or a very agitated parent commented about their "health" and something about "growing young boys."

"That's enough!" Bulma glared down at Trunks with hands on her hips. He looked up at her and hurriedly closed the cap and placed the syrup by his plate. Bulma shook her head and turned around again to flip the pancakes before they burned again. "Can't have you hyped up on sugar, the last thing I need is for you to start bouncing off the walls like some damn animal…" She grumbled under her breath.

Trunks ignored her comment knowing better then to say anything. He knew his mother was not a morning person, and her temper was much shorter during this time of day. He heard his mother cough, and place the new pancakes on a plate and sat down across from her son to eat as well.

"There's more on the counter if you want Trunks." She told him. "And drink your milk."

"Yes momma." The six year old replied and picked up his drink in his small hands. He gulped it down in three huge gulps and wiped away his white mustache with his arm. He then got up with his plate in hand, to retrieve some more food.

When he got back in his chair, he noticed his mother had yet to touch her food, her eyes were heavy and dark circles were under her eyes. His mother was working all night again, he realized. He didn't know why she did this, but some times she would stay extra long in her lab working on that weird machine. When he asked her about it, she told him that she worked on it to keep her mind busy. He didn't understand what she meant, but she would usually rush him out of the lab before he got the chance to ask.

"Momma, are you okay?" He asked out of concern.

Bulma looked across the table at her six year old son. Her head rested on her hand and the other she brought up to pull back some sparse bangs from her face. She put on a fake half smile removed the cigarette from her lips to extinguish it to the tray by the end of the table.

"Yes baby, momma's fine." She replied though the lack of enthusiasm in her voice told him otherwise.

Trunks stayed quiet not truly trusting his mother's words and began to pick at his food with his fork. The remainder of breakfast went by in awkward silence. Bulma finished her meal hardly eating anything and Trunks collected the plates. After that, his mother disappeared back to the lab and Trunks went to play in the next room.

It was later that night. A bright light filled his eyes followed by a loud cracking out the young boy's window as a dive of thunder struck through the sky. It was raining heavily. Trunks could hear the feverish pitter-patter of the raindrops hitting the sides and roof of the Capsule Dome like a fierce drum. The wind howled like a baying hound to the moon, which currently was obscured by the dark murky clouds hiding the sky and marvelous stars.

Trunks brought the covers up to his nose with tightly clenched fingers. He never did like the storms, it brought him back bad memories. While other kids and grown-ups alike might have believed he was only afraid because the thundering was scary, Trunks knew it was on some deeper, more psychological level and he knew his mother knew it too.

Though he never understood why, whenever there was a storm he would have terrible nightmares about a stormy night and two scary figures standing tall in front of six men standing defensively before him. His mother would be cradling him in her arms hiding carefully so not to be spotted as the two figures began to attack all the people before him,. He could hear his mother's silent cries in fear and anguish murmuring things like "Please god" and "Make it stop."

The end of the dream always ended the same, the six brave warriors all fell, and his mother shrieked out in pain to see that all of the men had fallen dead. She cried and yelled at the bodies that didn't move under her assaults to wake them. He would wake after that, in a hot panting mess and would never be able to go back to sleep. When he told his mother about this, she at first had the look of complete horror plastered on her usually calm face. But she would quickly dismiss it and tell him not to worry about bad dreams because that's all they were. Bad dreams.

A flash of light illuminated the room followed by a loud cracking like the earth had spilt in two. It rumbled and boomed viciously around his sensitive ears making him pull the quilt closer to his body until his fingers turned white from the strain.

Tonight was no different. It was storming terribly, just like the night in his dream, and it had brought back the terrifying nightmare back full force. Shivering as cold sweat dribbled down his forehead, Trunks gasped to recollect his breath lost from his nightmare.

It terrified him, no matter how many times he had seen it, it always chilled him to the bone. Those two figures, whose faces shadowed from aged memory haunted his dreams like restless spirits. Their eyes, their eyes were empty and expressionless. Unaffected by emotion like a lifeless doll's staring into the eternity of space.

Trunks shivered as another chill ran down his spine, he wanted nothing more then to crawl up with his mother and fall asleep in her protective arms, only there did he feel truly safe. Pulling the covers down in much haste, Trunks dashed from his room and ran down the hall barefoot to his mother's room.

With sweat covered knuckles he knocked quietly on the door as though making too much of a sound would awaken his nightmares into this world and attack him from one of the shadowy corners.

"Momma…?" Trunks called out when he got no response. He creaked the door open just a bit so he could peek one blue eye through the crack. He knew if anywhere his mother would be here. He had witnessed her climb into her room and he saw her lock down her lab hours ago.

His eye darted to find the bed empty. Sheets were swept to the side as though someone pushed them hurriedly off in a rush to leave. With this he opened the door wide. Trunks slowly scampered inside the room on small feet to further check the room. Where was his momma? He quickly darted to her bathroom and flicked on the light. He momentarily shielded his eyes from the invading light with his hand and ventured in.

"Momma?" He called again when his moment of blindness ceased.

He got no reply and noticed the place was completely empty. Suddenly washed over with a wave of fear and loneliness, Trunks darted from the room to every room on the upstairs' floor, anxious to find his lost mother.

"Momma? Momma!" He called as he raced from room to room opening doors and flickering on the switches, each one only granting his sight with an empty room.

Fear gripped him tightly at his racing heart and he dashed down the stairs, he stumbled on the last step and landed on his chin on the floor when he forgot about the bottom step. He cried out in pain and whimpered, but hastily stood back up and dashed through the halls and rooms of each, finding them all empty of his motherly figure.

"Momma!" He called out again, voice dripping in fear and anxiety.

Never had he ever known his mother to ever leave the house at night time. She always told him it was never safe to go out of the house besides for school and it was only worse at night. So automatically he assumed the worse, thoughts of those two terrible monsters that irked his dreams capturing his mother filled his heart with terror. Drumming in his chest was his heart that suddenly seemed to grow louder with each quickened thump.

His frantic search eventually brought the six year old to the kitchen. He stumbled in and was faced with the bitter winds and small icicle like nips of the rain hitting his small form. He looked confusedly at the back door which hung wide open, feverishly banging against the wall with each brutal gust of wind.

Trunks' purple brows knitted together. The back door was open? Momma always made sure that all the doors were locked down before bed. She even reinforced them with "Ki" to make sure no one could get in. Making it impossible to open unless from the inside or if you had the password.

His curiosity over took his body and momentarily crippled his fear and he slowly slinked towards the back door on shaky legs. His hair brushed wildly in the wind, tussling it in all directions and swatting him in his eyes. He peered out the door, one hand gripping the doorknob from banging against the wall and other shielding his eyes from droplets of rain and wind.

His eyes followed the empty terrain that was Capsule home's backyard. It was mainly a dry plain with sparse trees and a murky pool to the right filled with grimy water with leaves and other grisly things coating the entire surface from lack of care and use over the years. Along the side of the house was a mass jungle like of unattended plants and bushes, once his grandmother's prized garden or so his mother said.

Then his eyes caught the vast circular structure that occupied the left quadrant of the yard. It was a large and white, strangely shaped space ship, with "_Capsule 3" _Written across the surface in bold black letters. For all his life Trunks had never known its purpose, or what was inside it. The door was always locked tightly, keeping anyone from ever going inside. He was always a curious boy and had wondered what was inside but could never open it. When he asked his mother what it was, she would quickly grow angry and tell him it was nothing of his concern and he should keep away from it. He really didn't even know why they kept the thing there. Mother never seemed to use it and all it seemed to do was collect dust. In fact, his mother didn't even let the help clean up inside.

The lights were on.

His eyes beheld the sight. No one ever went inside there. Why were the lights on? Curiosity over-rid right reason and he abandoned the door and ventured out onto the wet grass.

He made his way barefoot through the wet muddy grass over to the ship that beamed with light inside, generously curious as to why it was on and what in fact was inside the strange dome shaped craft. Soaked with rain he got to the door and peered in through the window which was usually taped with a black panel, but because of the storm, it seemed to have blown off. Inside the brightly lit room his eyes wandered. It was pretty empty, white seemed to be the only color inside.

Near the head of the ship seemed to be a control station to something, he never saw one as odd as that one however. It looked like it was a control station for some device on the ship. He wondered what it controlled, genuinely curious since he had never seen his mother working on a devise quite like that one.

There was also a table near the corner of the ship and only one single small chair by its side; apparently who ever had spent there time in here did it alone. He also noted the odd shaped droids that were set on top the table, slightly oval shaped robots with a small red inkling device in the middle. Some even sported nice sized dents in their shiny metallic covers, while others looked like they were missing pieces, or smashed to pulp resembling a can of soda after one smashed it against their head. He slightly grimaced at the thought of who could have caused so much damage to the droids, what ever the purpose was of the droids, he could tell that it wasn't like any of the serving bots that sometimes routed the house. The droids looked as though they weren't used in ages either, seeing as they were covered in dust and cobwebs.

His thoughts came to a stop when he heard a whimper and his eyes followed the source. His eyes widened at what he found, his mother crumpled on her knees on the floor. His brows furrowed at the sight. Was she crying? Never had he ever seen his mother cry before, sometimes he thought he would hear her at night but when he asked her about it, she nearly brushed it off and said everything was fine. But here she was crumpled into the fetal position with one of the strange oval shaped droids clenched tightly to her chest.

Creaking open the usually locked door, Trunks peeped inside set on condoling his mother but was stopped when he heard her sheepish cry. She was whimpering harder then he had ever heard anyone before. Usually she was a strong woman, one that could look death in the face and laugh. But now she was acting like a child who had lost their way home and found themselves alone, cold and helpless. Through her cries and hiccups he could barely make out her talking. She was murmuring usually incoherent things, speaking in broken sentences to someone he at the time, didn't know.

"Why?" She bellowed, the word echoing through the entire dome. "Why did you leave me?!"

Young Trunks stood perched by the door in awe, not really knowing what to do or say. All he could do was stare at the figure crying like a child on the floor.

"Why did you leave me all alone?" She whimpered softly. Her breath was labored with deep throated sobs.

She broke into a fit of cries making his heart wrench. He never knew his mother as the type to cry, but now she seemed to be so vulnerable and crying in the middle of the Capsule 3.

"How could you? HOW COULD YOU? WHY DAMMIT!"

After what seemed like hours of sobbing, her cries shrunk into mere whimpers and hiccups. He would hear her sniff every now and then but she still didn't move from the crumpled pathetic form she belittled herself to, tightly holding the broken bot to her chest while gently rocking back and forth. It was definitely a sight he would never forget. But yet one he never wanted to remember.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Okay, so I can tell a lot of people think Bulma is a little bit scary. I have to point out however that we are talking about living in a time where the androids have pretty much destroyed everything and left the world on a constant panic. People die everyday so you don't really know if your going to be next and fear your life if you go out to get the mail. Bulma had lost all her friends, her family, and has only got one person left to care for, I doubt that living through such things would keep her in her usual peppy nature. She's living in a war. In my opinion she would have to have toughened up in order to survive. Having lost everything she would be emotionally unstable and yes even a little bit harsh but she would act that way to protect her son.

Since the show is meant for kiddies you don't really get a good idea what that kind of war is doing to the planet. Thus why Bulma seems to be happy go lucky even though her own home isn't even safe from street wanderers. If it were more realistic, the war would have made her learn to be tough. If the androids really did destroy so much, then most of the population that was still alive would be living in the streets hungry and homeless and a simple trip to the store could be a battle of survival for your own goods. In reality if she didn't grow tough it would have killed her.

Nightmares

Chapter 3

3 Years Later

"Mom!" A high voice rang throughout the entire compound. The figure appeared from the head of the stairs, bright mauve hair topping his head.

"WHAT!?" Came the brash reply of his mother from somewhere further down the hall.

Though the smile that forced itself onto the nine year old's face never faltered. Instead, he continued his stampede down the stairs, the force of it shaking the entire house, until he made it to the first floor. With an abrupt stop, he screeched down the hallway until he made it to his mother's lab, where he knew she was located.

"I'm going now." He yelled at the door, keeping his feet in jog.

He waited patiently for the metal door to open. He was greeted by the sight of his wondrous mother, over-sized goggles strapped to her face and smudges of oil across her cheeks.

Bulma raised the goggles from her eyes and rested them on top of her head. The skin that was protected under the goggles was somewhat lighter then the bottom half of her face. The etches formed on her face in the shape of the goggles, evident on how dirty her face was getting while tinkering with her toys.

Trunks stifled a laugh and let escape a small muffled snicker. "Still messing with the motor on that time machine-thing of yours again?"

Bulma huffed, simultaneously blowing a loose strand of her hair from her face. "Yes I am still working on the motor. I honestly can't find what's wrong with it."

"Well maybe it's not the machine, it's the inventor."

Bulma glared fiercely at her son. "What?" She shot, placing gloved hands on her hips.

Trunks smile broadened, loving how he could get a rouse out of his mother like that.

"Well this inventor is about to knock the hell outcha if you don't spill why you are once again bothering me from my work - I thought I told you to leave me be." She glared irately at Trunks who backed up slightly with hands raised to his front as means of surrender.

"Whoa, easy there! I only came to tell you that I'm off training with Gohan and I need some capsules." Trunks smiled innocently, a slight sweat drop placed on the side of his head.

Bulma let the initial snide comment slide and huffed again. "Alright what capsules do you need this time?" She asked pulling the cigarette from her lips in between two gloved fingers.

"Thanks mom, I need two sets of training gear capsules, four courses of provisions capsules, 6,000zenni (he stated rather quickly), my blade capsule…"

"WHAT do you need 6,000zenni for?!" Bulma interrupted eyes blinking questionably at the young boy.

"Wha-uh, well just in case." He replied sheepishly.

Bulma didn't buy it. The scientist positioned the cigarette back in her mouth then placed her hands back on her hips. "In case of what?" She demanded hotly.

"Well- you know, in case of an emergency and I need to call home or something." He began to sweat a little and he stared at his feet, scratching the back of his head. "You wouldn't want anything to happen to your little boy now would you? What if something happened to me and I didn't have money to contact you with? How would you feel then?"

"I would hope that the rats ate off his lying behind before he brought his scraggly ass home to me!"

Trunks winced at the power of her voice.

"Trunks!" Bulma hollered when he didn't respond to her accusation, hands still placed on her hips.

"I know mom!" He whined.

"Obviously you don't." Bulma grunted crossing her arms. "What do you need that money for? And don't give me this "just to be safe" crap either. If anything bad happened you know good and well you were the cause of it."

Eh, she wasn't wrong, Trunks thought to himself. He was possibly the biggest trouble maker the world ever had the unpleasant privilege to see. He could not count how many times he had gotten in trouble at school, or snuck into his mother's lab, or how many innocent civilians he had pulled unmerciful pranks on. And he enjoyed every minute of it. It went without saying that he got in trouble a lot for his behavior, but it was all worth it in his mind. He snickered inwardly as he recalled one occasion that involved a teacher, a trampoline, and the Capsule's Corps. decrepit swimming pool.

"And another thing." He heard his mother berate. "Just what happened to the previous 6,000zenni you asked for last week? Hn?"

At this Trunks began to sweat further. He looked hesitantly up at his mother. "Wha-uh…" He muttered, blinking coordinately. "See, what had happened was…"

Bulma stood before her son, crossed arms and tapping her foot, waited expectantly for her son to come up with an excuse. It wasn't the first time he tried to come up with excuses- she had learned all his schemes by heart by now. When ever he started sentences with "wha-uh" or "see what had happened was…" she already knew it was a lie. It was easy to read his expressions too. Whenever he was hiding something from her, he would grab the back of his head like she had seen an old friend do all too many times, and he would also begin to sweat.

In light of it all, she still let him at least TRY to come up with a plausible excuse, and most of the time he came up with damn good ones. If she were anyone else they would have bought into it hook line and sinker.

"Save it I already know." She spat putting her palm out in front of him. He looked up into her eyes knowing that he was caught; irritation filled his bright blue eyes and his lip turned into a frown. The look all kids gave when they were caught red handed and knew they were in trouble - make that big trouble.

"You thought I wouldn't find all those magazines under your bed?" Bulma smirked. Trunks' jaw dropped.

"Oh yeah, found quite a collection of 'em up there. You were at least gracious enough to hide them in the most painfully obvious spot." Bulma chuckled deviously.

"You know, for the son of a genius you aren't very bright. You could give me a bad name, you know? You could have at least come up with somewhere creative when hiding your Hustlers' Trunks."

"Eh, hehehehe…" Trunks laughed nervously. Slowly stepping backwards on shaky legs as he saw his mother advancing with a raise of her brow.

"Uh, bye mom!" He called when he got enough of the nervousness and darted with his super speed out of the way and out the front door.

"What?" Bulma blinked during the half second her son vanished. It only took a second for her to reclaim her senses and anger took over her features. "Hey!" She hollered up the hallway.

The nine year old stopped at the door way, after swinging it open. "Oh, and you can keep the capsules mom, we can just train without them today!" And with that he disappeared out the door leaving Bulma alone at the door of her lab.

Bulma growled and stomped her foot harshly against the floor. "Damn it, he shouldn't be able to do that…"

It wasn't anything new, usually when things would go this far Trunks would run for the hills. He was strong and fast, faster then her and could easily sprint at the first sign of trouble. But it wasn't too much problem; he still had to come home. He did have to eat and have a place to sleep didn't he? She would always wind up getting him back sooner or later.

Grumbling Bulma turned around and marched back into her lab before she was bothered by that rabble-rousing son of hers. She sighed as the metallic doors slammed shut behind her. When and how this had all started was beyond her. It began about two years ago. He had transformed from the perfect sweet little boy into this trouble starting rebel who tried everything in his power to disregard her and her authority.

She pondered that is was because of lack of a fatherly figure. For a while she had heard from many that she ought to remarry. Of course, it was kind of hard to "remarry" when you haven't even BEEN married in the first place. Though, she left that part out. Telling people that she wasn't married to Trunks' father didn't seem like the smartest idea in her league of the media.

Though she would never hear much of marrying anyone anyway. She wasn't interested in finding someone else; Trunks wouldn't accept them no matter who they were anyway, not that she would even think of another man anyway. Another problem would be explaining Trunks' "special powers". He was part Saiyan and as such, was much stronger then most men on the planet. Most men wouldn't understand.

How many times she had to hear people telling her that the boy was in need of a father figure and that was why he acted so rebellious? She was sick of people telling her this. How dare they tell her what was best for her boy. She was doing fine without anyone so why start now? Besides for Trunks, Bulma was far from looking for any man. She was no longer interested in the topic in men. Her life was fully devoted to Trunks and her project. There was no room for anything else.

With a sigh Bulma repositioned the goggles back over her face and went about fixing the motor that seemed to be damned for failure.

"Hold your ground. Keep your feet apart!"

The training had continued much like it had yesterday. Everything was the same, same work out, same training, same trainer. The only difference was that now they hadn't any training equipment. Due to Trunks' hasty departure he wasn't able to grab the capsules he had asked his mother for. Of course Trunks never told his trainer exactly why he didn't have the capsules in the first place.

So, instead today they were working on posture and speed. Nothing irked Trunks more then having someone yell orders at him but for some reason his mentor was the only exception. When he was young, he had always wondered why he was so much stronger then everyone else. From something brief his mother had told him it was because of his genes. So when he was told that there was another just like him, he was thrilled at the chance to be taught to hone his skills.

A hand came up to wipe away the sweat that ran into his eyes. Trunks huffed in the hot air and nodded his head before standing back in position. Purple hair matted from sweat stuck to his forehead.

"Yes sir." He responded while slowly taking his position.

He lodged back into a classic stance hands brought up, one defensively, one offensively and spread his legs awaiting the sudden strike from his mentor.

Without a second thought, the tall dark haired boy charged at Trunks with raised fists. Closely the purple haired boy studied his opponent's movements and silently calculated where he was going to strike in his head. Tone reflexes kicked in and his left arm shot up to block against the muscular fist.

With a grunt the older mentor parried the few punches that were thrown at him by his young student. He would say he was impressed by the boy's skills. He was much stronger then he would have first thought and it was doing him good as well to be around someone with the powers like him. Ever since his father died Gohan had never been the same. In fact, after his death his mother stopped talking altogether. He felt lost without the guiding hand of his father there to lead him, he would fall apart. So when he got a call from Bulma stating that it would be nice for him to teach Trunks to fight, he was more then happy to help out, anything to get his mind straitened out on current situations.

The ground rumbled, causing Trunks' last punch to waver. With some shock his lavender head shot up to his mentor's. Gohan's face had hardened. His stone coal eyes narrowed ahead of him and a tight scowl overtook his features.

"What's going on?" Trunks stammered worried about the serious look on his trainer's face.

"Leave now Trunks." Gohan said sternly.

"What? Why?" Trunks asked in a panic. "What's going on?"

Gohan didn't answer. His eyes locked in front of them. The nine year old student followed his eyes. An aqua blue stream of light crashed through the trees in their course direction. Evading the blast, Gohan took to the air with a dazed Trunks under his arm. He landed them on a high boulder as the wave of energy crashed into the earth where they previously stood.

"Did you really have to make such a ruckus?" A feminine voice followed after the blast. "You can destroy the city as much as you want 17 but mind the forest."

"Whatever 18, your petty attachments to nature always confused me." Another voice spoke.

Trunks' throat tightened as he tried to manage a gulp. For some reason these voices sounded gravely familiar. His heart thumped and he visibly began to sweat.

"The same way you insist on driving a damn vehicle even though flying would be much more effective." The feminine voice snapped crossly. The other voice chuckled.

Slowly two figures came in sight through the clouds of smoke and debris. That moment Trunks believed that his heart dropped to his stomach. The two chilling figures walked out of the smoldering ground that now enveloped the plain. They wandered around the terrain studying the damage with impassive eyes.

"N-no…" Trunks stuttered taking shaky steps back.

It was them. The ones from his nightmares. The same two beings that tormented his dreams at night, the same two beings that would make his mother shriek in horror in them, the same two beings that scared the life out of him. Trunks visibly paled. His body was trounced with raking shivers. They couldn't be real. They were just dreams like his mother said, they weren't real. But those eyes, the blank lifeless expression they reflected had to be more then coincidence. He couldn't sense their energy. In fact, he couldn't sense anything remotely _human _about these creatures. They acted like living dolls. Soulless shells walking around creating destruction in their quake.

His mother had told him about the androids. How they were terrorizing the world in their devastation and that she kept him close for safety. In fact the only time he was even aloud out of the Capsule Corp. home was when he was studying or training with Gohan. He had no idea what they looked like. Trunks was surprised when his mother would tell him stories about how free their lives had been before _they_ came. It baffled him to think of there ever being a life without such worries of if you're going to die today if you step out of the house.

Trunks' fists gripped tightly on the orange Gi of his trainers until his knuckles turned white. He could not even fathom the amount of fear that washed over him. These beings were REAL. His nightmares were REAL. They stood inert before him; lifeless killing machines with only the sole purpose of destroying.

The androids were here.


	4. Chapter 4

Nightmares

Chapter 4

Nothing. Nothing can stand a chance against the androids. They were too powerful. _Too powerful._ They killed everyone. _Everyone. _He was the only survivor of the massacre. That's what it was. Not a murder, not a killing spree, a massacre. They were all mutilated. Kuririn, Yamcha, Tenshinhan, Piccolo, Vegeta, everyone. They were attacked without warning and torn to bits before they had time to devise a plan.

The only reason he lived was because they grew bored.

Since that ill-fated day, Gohan had made it his obligation to protect what little populous of the planet was left. Training the son of his father's rival fit into place naturally. They would always do better working together. One day they might even defeat these monsters.

But right now was too soon. Trunks was _too_ young. And besides for his age and mischievous nature, he knew Trunks could never handle the strain of battle so young. His mind was set off from ever killing someone.

Or in this case, something.

It seemed somewhat comical really. Judging by whom Trunks' father was really made it seem contradictory. He half expected Trunks to turn out into a battle-raging blood-craving prideful warrior like his father. But Trunks was naturally tranquil, very contrary to his father. He was never exposed to war or battle, maybe by what it could bring, but never had he faced it off face to face. His blood was still innocent. So unlike his own which was sullied by battle at the young age of four.

He looked down into the fear-struck eyes of the lavender-haired youth. His eyes shined inertly at the figures below them, pupils dilated and shaking unnerving. He remembered that look. It was the same look he himself gave the first time he ever met his uncle. That was his first time "experiencing" true battle. Gohan was scared stiff of the man. Even now fifteen years later he still has nightmares about his long-haired uncle killing his father and kidnapping him.

He assumed Trunks would or does hold nightmares from these two. He remembered Trunks was only six months old when he last saw the androids. He quietly wondered if seeing them again after all these years sparked some unwanted memories in his young mind.

"Trunks you need to get out of here now." Gohan said through pursed lips, eyes never leaving the ominous figures just below them.

But the order went unnoticed to him. The boy was so petrified he didn't even respond. His pale ocean eyes were mesmerized with fear, locked onto the androids still ignorant of their presence.

For now.

"Trunks!" Gohan called grabbing the scared stiff boy by the shoulders and shook him.

The sudden contact of someone's hands on his shoulders brought Trunks back into reality and he shrieked loudly, trying to fight against the hold someone had on his shoulders. Panic consumed him as thoughts of those two horrifying demons had grabbed him.

The scream had inadvertently alerted the two figures below them of their presence and their cold eyes rose and focused on the two standing on the ledge. They shifted their necks and peered up curiously.

"Let me GO!" Trunks squirmed against the one who grabbed him.

A hand shot up and clasped around his mouth. Silencing his screams into muffled murmurs. Gohan grabbed the shuffling boy and pulled him closely, trying to consol the panicking boy into a state of calmness before he alerted the androids of their location.

"Well what do we have hear?" Came the amused voice of the male. His glacier eyes fixed on the familiar boy with short black spiky hair and dressed in orange Gi. His peering eyes slowly dropped onto the other smaller, unfamiliar figure with purple hair.

"Were you tracking us again in another foolish attempt to defeat us?" He asked with a raise of his brow. "Or did we stumble into a private training session? Either way I don't really give a damn."

Gohan's eyes locked with the androids. His failed attempt to hide the small boy was modified into an effort to conceal the boy behind his back. He didn't speak, only glared spitefully into the lifeless eyes of the android.

"Not much of a talker are you?" The blonde haired unit asked moving some of her hair behind her ear before folding her arms to grasp her elbows.

"So who's that brat? Someone new you brought us to play with?" The dark haired android asked teasingly.

Gohan growled defensively and shoved the fear-struck nine-year old farther behind him. This made the blonde one laugh.

"I don't know, he _is _kind of cute." She said. "Were you trying to train him so he could fight against us too?" She rose a brow and chuckled darkly.

"He looks scared to death if you ask me though, little on the scrawny side too." Her accomplice added.

"Just leave now." Gohan growled through clenched teeth and fists. He didn't want to put his young student in harm's way. Especially in the kind of predicament he was currently in. Poor Trunks was scared stiff.

Actually, Gohan was surprised at the boy's fighting potential. If he kept up with his training, Gohan was sure he would reach Super Saiyan in a few years. If they worked together now, they could put up a fight with the androids, enough till they could escape of course, they were still far from standing a decent chance against them. But with the current frozen Trunks, he was helpless. He wasn't even sure he had the mental capacity right now to realize his surroundings.

"Leave?" The male android repeated with a raise of his dark brow. "You hear that 18? He wants us to leave because the little snotty-nosed brat is scared."

The blonde identified as 18 chuckled and walked a few steps forwards. Gohan grunted and took his fighting stance.

The female closed her eyes and unhooked her arms, letting them drop freely by her sides. She stopped advancing and only slowly began to raise her head and stare at the Gi-clad warrior and small trembling boy behind him.

"Make us."

Gohan's eyes widened slightly at the sudden challenge, but he was completely caught off guard when the other android suddenly fazed right next to him in an instant.

Out of reflexes he turned to the side still shielding the shuddering Trunks and faced his closest adversary. He was still amazed how strong these creatures were even after how many times he faced them. They always seemed to surprise him. Even now when he was completely focused on them they had snuck past his guard and gotten right up into his face in a bat of an eyelash.

Though the dark skinned, scarf clad cyborg wasn't even looking at him. Instead, his grim azure stare was transfixed on the shaking form of Trunks.

"I don't know... he really does look familiar though." The android stated, fists planted on his hips. "The eyes look awfully familiar, besides for their color."

"S-Stay back from him!" Gohan exclaimed trying his hardest to protect the only other individual strong enough to possibly destroy these creatures.

17's eyes darted to Gohan's nervous face. A smirk covered his features at the resulting uneasiness he had suddenly gained.

"And why is that?" He asked out of amusement. "What does this kid mean to you?"

Before Gohan had time respond, a blood-chilling scream was heard from behind him. 'Trunks' Was Gohan's first initial thought.

Turning his back on the dark-haired android, Gohan was faced with the painful sight of Trunks being held by the throat and jaw by the other android. They did it again! Using his anxiety to sneak up on him when he was only focused on one of them.

"Aaahhhh! Let me go!" Trunks screamed fighting as best as he could to loosen the tight grasp the humanoid machine had around his neck.

"Trunks!" Gohan gasped before moving to try and help his young apprentice. He came to an immediate stop however when strong arms bound themselves tightly around his body like steel. Gohan turned his head and grunted in surprise to see the snickering face of the second android locking him in place from behind.

"Uh-uh-uh. Where do you think your going?" 17 inquired teasingly, simultaneously squeezing harder around Gohan's body.

"Let him go you monsters!" Gohan yelled as he continued to fight against the restraining arms.

18 chuckled darkly. "You really are attached to this little one aren't you? It will be such a joy to watch your face as I tear him apart."

The small boy in her grasp struggled wildly. His hands reached up and clawed at the single hand that clutched his neck, dangling him three feet off the ground. He had never met anyone that was so strong. Even Gohan had a hard time restraining him with two arms and this female, that didn't even look like she spent an hour training in her entire life, restrained him with one hand. They truly were the monsters from his nightmare, and now they had him by the throat and he was powerless against them.

"Gohan –" Trunks gasped gruffly from lack of air. It was becoming harder and harder to keep conscious. His vision started to blur into blobs of color.

"Help me –" He gagged out, eyes swollen red turned to stare at the form of his mentor fighting to be free from the other android. Tears stained his vision and emptied out of his eyes to leak onto the hand of the demon from his nightmares that held him. He closed his eyes as more tears fell from his face. "Please – help me Gohan."

Gohan grew infuriated at the sound of Trunks' pleads. Each raspy word that left his lips was like a dagger to his heart. He tried with all his strength to fight against the creature holding him but the arms only seemed to get tighter the more he struggled. His arms were pinned to his sides under the thinner arms of the android. He heard a chuckle by his ear as the android laughed at their struggle. They truly were monsters.


	5. Chapter 5

Nightmares

Chapter 5

"Let him go!" Gohan cried out as he struggled to get himself free from the android's grasp. The hold on him was unrelenting. "He has nothing to do with this! He has done nothing to you!"

Though his cries went unnoticed by the two androids, either that or they just didn't seem to care.

"G-Gohan…" The cracked voice of Trunks seeped gravelly through his lips. Hot tears traveled wet trails down his reddened cheeks. Trunks was not able to breathe anymore thanks to the death grip the android had around his neck, denying him precious oxygen. Terror gripped him and erased every other notion from his young mind.

"I said LET HIM GO!" Gohan yelled forcefully. Gaining enough power to break one arm free from its imprisonment Gohan made a desperate leap to his young apprentice.

17 chuckled and with speed unmatched by any regular human grabbed Gohan again before he could fling himself at 18 and the young boy. "My, my, you are a bit touchy with this boy? …and he seems quite a bit attached to you as well." His glarier eyes narrowed in though. "18! There's a change of plans. We aren't going to kill that one yet." The dark haired android said nodding towards the barely conscious Trunks.

The blonde unit raised a brow in question. "Oh? What did you have in mind 17?" She loosened the hold she had on the nine year-old's neck just enough so he could breathe, but not enough for him to escape.

The android smirked at its female counter-part, alerting her that he had a dirty little plan.

"Let's teach our new little friend what happens when you come up against Gero's optimum models."

18 looked at her younger unit for a second then nodded. Her gaze fell onto the panicked youth she had captured a wicked smile crossed over her lips. The boy she held well off the ground shook vehemently to set himself free. When both androids looked eerily at him, she felt his whole body tense and his struggle became more desperate.

"You see, my little purple-haired pal," The black haired android said, "that it is useless to fight against us. We are way more evolved then your primitive flesh and blood." A cold smirk. "Your friend here has yet to realize this little factor and it has cost him dearly time and time again."

Trunks shifted and tried as best he could to free himself but all tries failed miserably. He was left with dangling in the air by one of the terrifying beasts and trying to fathom what the other was saying. His mind so jumbled with fright it was hard to focus on something as basic as speech. His eyes shifted nervously between the dark-haired one still trapping Gohan in his arms and the blonde one that held him suspended in the air.

"I think it's about time we teach your mentor a lesson and show you what will happen if you ever try anything as foolish as your companion."

Gohan's eyes shifted from one android to the other. He was trapped between the two and had no chance of escape. What were the two planning? Everything was always a game to them. He never had the slightest clue on what they were devising until it was too late and an entire city wound up in smokes. All he knew is that he had to get Trunks out of here. If her were to make too sudden of a move, they would surely kill the young half Saiyan.

The arms that constricted around Gohan tightened. He let out a deep gasp as the breath was literally taken from his body in one instant heave. The small arms of the android were like solid steel. They crushed around him and began to squeeze his ribcage painfully slow. It did not stop. He tried to fight against the limbs, but the force was too much for him, any extra movement only bought more pain to his body. A harsh cry escaped his lips as he felt his ribs crack under the strain. The feeling of his ribs cracking under the agonizingly slow squeeze made his voice die within his throat. His agony continued and he roared in pain as the arms continued their binding, purposely moving at a slow pace to draw out as much pain as possible.

"Amazing how frail you flesh and blood types can be." 17 mentioned squeezing tighter around Gohan's broken body. "Just one simple squeeze and I can break almost all of your bones…" He drew out suddenly squeezing harder causing Gohan to howl in pain.

Trunks gasped at the sounds of his mentor's cries in pain. Automatically he began to struggle again to try and help his teacher and friend. "Let-Let him go you monster!" Trunks gagged out growling and shaking about.

"Easy now boy." 18 silenced glaring into his eyes dangerously. "Watch and learn what messing with us can lead you. Your friend didn't get it and now he's paying the price." She spoke coldly before she turned to watch her partner continue his torture.

Another harsh howl filled Trunks' ears as well a several more cracks and pops from Gohan's ribs being shattered under the android's hold. A soft chuckle made its way to his ear and he realized the android was laughing.

"Does it hurt _that_ much?" He asked. "I assure you we are far from completed with you."

With that the android let go of the broken Gohan and he fell to his knees in pain. He could hardly breathe. Broken ribs painfully stabbed into his lungs, and were almost piercing through his heart. Trying to gather breath, he coughed loudly. A spatter was heard as a mass of blood spilt from his lips onto the soil below.

'Gohan –' Trunks' mind was shaking. His eyes locked with the crumpled form of his mentor in pure horror. Never in his life would he imagine he would see him fallen in this state. He was the strongest person he knew, reduced to a hacking being crumpled and broken on the ground.

A foot was planted between Gohan's shoulder blades as he tried to stand up, keeping him planted on his hands and knees. Gohan wheezed painfully , blood dribbling down his chin in a crimson trail. The weight of 17's foot kept him on the ground since he was too weak to fight back. He could still hear the muffled cries and shouts of protest from Trunks and at the time he didn't know which was more painful; listening to his cries for help or the several broken ribs and failing lungs in his chest.

17 watched with emotionless eyes as the man below him still tried to squirm over to help the younger one. To his amusement the dark haired fighter still tried to rescue the purple haired one even when he knew he had no chance against them.

"Hn, your determination is impressive." 17 said impassively. "But it is foolish when you have nothing to back it up."

Gohan continued to struggle towards the blonde female who was holding Trunks by the neck ignoring the android's proclamation, crawling on his hands and knees to get from under 17's foot. He could only move a few inches, and he slowly raised one of his arms and outstretched it in the younger boy's direction.

"T-Trunks…"

Speaking was hard. Every breath he took in felt like a scorching dagger in his lungs tearing it apart. His arm reaching out to grab him but yet he so far away. A small golden glow lit up in his palm, all the strength he could muster, and focused it on the android that held Trunks from escaping alive.

A strong hand grabbed firmly onto Gohan's upper arm, latching dangerously tight around his muscular wrist. "Don't even try it." 17 glared harshly at Gohan. All looks of enjoyment vanished and was replaced with the eyes of a killer. The eyes Gohan were too familiar with.

Gohan gasped when he felt the hand restrain his arm tighten. The small hand that was tremendously small compared to his own tightened to the point where he was sure the circulation was dead to his arm. The energy blast he had been preparing dissipated and faded into nothing.

"I see you are still in need of punishment."

Gohan coughed again, letting more of his vital fluids spiral to the ground in a splatter puddle of blood and saliva. The pressure on his back began to grow stronger.17's foot began to push down with crushing force onto his back, earning quite a few popping sounds, while simultaneously pulling on Gohan's outstretched left arm. He let loose a painful and hoarse moan.

"No – stop! Please!" Trunks' tears began anew, streaming down his face in a seemingly endless trail. He whimpered and closed his eyes, trying to block out the grueling image that was before his eyes. Hoping that when he reopened them, this would all go away and it would all be some terrible nightmare.

"Uh-uh-uh. You should watch closely now." The blonde unit said. "We wouldn't want you missing anything now would we?" She shifted his position so that his back was flat against her chest. One arm fastened around his squirming torso while the other latched his chin, forcing him to watch the torture of his friend.

17 grinned maliciously when he saw the insufferable look of pain wash over his victim's face. It was so easy to bend this boy, so easily he could just break him in two without intentionally meaning to. He began to pull back Gohan's arm, pulling it in the opposite direction while increasing weight on his back with his foot. A wail of pain rang through the grassland as a loud crack resonated the area and Gohan's arm contorted in the opposite direction before dropping loosely in the android's solid grip.

The android looked over at the sweat blanketed face of the dark-haired demi-saiyan. His eyes were tightly screwed shut and his breath became more jagged then before, evident of his suffering. The look brought joy to his face, and the squirming of the child held by his partner intensified.

He never let go of the broken limb, instead he continued to pull at it until the screaming of his victim almost reached ear-splitting. He stretched the arm with hardly any effort and wrenched it painfully in his direction. Then, in one quick movement, he pulled the arm clean off the boy's body. Blood spurt out from the detached limb and shoulder, angrily protesting the loss of its arm and joining the growing puddle on the ground.

"GOHAN!!!"

Gohan's scream echoed in the forest, bouncing off the tree tops and sending the birds fluttering away in fright. Eyes burst wide open and a sound only made possible from torture escaped past Gohan's lips. The bitter howl ended his voice as he no longer had the power to speak, lack of oxygen from failing lungs reducing the warrior's voice to mere rasps and hoarse whispers.

Trunks watched in complete horror as the android tore off his mentor's arm with nothing more then a flick of his wrist. The severed arm still convulsing in his grip. Jerking almost as if in a last attempt to reattach itself. Trunks thought he was going to wretch. The android didn't even have a look of regret or pity in his eyes.

With carelessness 17 chucked the arm over his shoulder as though it was as useless as an apple core and watched as the fallen warrior under his boot crumpled to the ground, evident that he finally lost conscious from the pain.

"NO!! GOHAN!!" Trunks screamed, his struggle growing wild and animalistic. It became harder and harder for the female android to hold him in place.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO YOU BASTARDS!"

In a blaze a golden light, Trunks freed himself from the android's tight hold in one impressive outburst of energy. His eyes shined almost lucid before they burned with a new green intensity. His one lavender hair shot up in a flame of golden energy before fizzling back to its regular color. His cry summoned the powerful light around him like a wicker of golden flame. It tongued around him as if he was engulfed by some holy light. Completely succumb to the beast of his rage, the infuriated nine year old prang and launched at the one responsible for his ally's affliction.

Like the roar of a mighty dragon he pushed all this new bound energy into one blow. Blinded by rage, Trunks charged at the android head on in a trail of blazing gold energy and landed his most powerful blow to its cheek. The blood in his body heated with a rage, it roared inside him like a chained beast, snarling to escape its chains and all other thoughts dissipated from his mind except the destruction of these two malevolent beings. To have there blood on his hands.

The strike landed squarely on 17's right cheek, causing his head to snap uncomfortably to the side. Stepping back he was able to stable himself before he could stumble over. Looks of fascination fell on the new boy wonder from the two androids. Mainly surprise that the boy actually landed a blow rather then being afraid or impressed.

Trunks stepped down on the ground only to propel his small body back into an attack again. It only took a few seconds for the android to see his movements and he stepped to the side, missing the boy's attack by mere inches. Then, swiftly backhanded him into a nearby boulder.

"You may have landed the first blow out of the element of surprise but you won't fool us again." The boy android said. His head tilted slightly to the side. "I am curious though, how are you able to have such power?"

His answer was only a blood lusting growl and a raging battle cry as the boy flung himself from the rubble at the android again like a rabid beast. The swirling golden energy momentarily blinding them from seeing the young fighter. 17 was surprised at the boy's sudden change. He was first this sniveling weak terrified child at one point, then morphed into this battle hungry fighter before him. He could tell that the boy was no longer thinking logically because the blows that he was now dodging were primal and rash with only the thought of striking and killing rather then actual strategy.

It was like the boy had lost his humanity and transformed into some rabid beast relying on the most basic of instincts for victory. Who would have thought that just harming one of his little friends could bring out so much in him? He doubted the boy was even in the right state of mind. His body was completely taken over by rage, probably couldn't even understand the simplest things as speech.

With one last dodge 17 sent a powerful blow to the young boy's gut, ending the match instantly. A weak breath escaped Trunks' lips and his mighty golden shine faded, leaving him as the purple-haired brat they had first seen before. Blue eyes widened before drifted shut. Trunks fell to the ground next to the bleeding dark-haired warrior, joining him in the state of comatose.

"Strange." 18 said as she took a place next to her comrade. "He also can transform like the other one. Too bad they are still too feeble to make any difference. Whatever, that was pretty boring, lets go."

17 didn't comment, just stared down at the lavender haired boy lying unconscious at his feet. With that 18 sighed and walked away from the scene like it was something you could see regularly in a walk around the park.

"I recognize him now." 17 said solemnly eyes still on the young unconscious body of Trunks.

"Hm?" 18 looked back at him from over her shoulder.

"The boy whose hair turned golden." He specified. "I recognize him now."

The blonde unit's eyes looked at 17 for a bit in confusion before narrowing on the lavender-haired youth.

"It was only for a brief second, but I saw it when he transformed. He had the same battle lusting eyes as the spiky haired one we faced off against nine years ago." 17 stated somberly.

18 took some generous glances down at the body of the still Trunks thoughtfully. He was right, he did share some features with the arrogant fowl-mouthed one. She shrugged it off after a few seconds and turned her back again to leave.

"Whatever." She muttered indifferently, turning her head over her shoulder at her comrade. "So are we leaving or what?"

17 took a few more harsh glances down at Trunks before answering his older unit. "Yes 18, let's go." And with that they blasted off into the sky.


	6. Chapter 6

Nightmares

Who knew how long he had been out? The chilly winds battered fiercely against the skin on the back of his neck, cold beads of rain drizzled down his face like icicle daggers. When he had first came to the only thing he registered was pain. Nothing else centered his mind as he peaked consciousness except the burning sensation that every limb was on fire. He could barely lift his head from the ground. That's when he was suddenly hit with the typhoon of emotions that the earlier events brought.

His first thoughts screamed for it to just have been another one of his nightmares, but the unimaginable throbbing his body sustained and the bluish purple tint around his neck causing him pain when he drew his every breath tossed that idea to the wind.

Trunks knew he had to have been out for a long time for the sky was now a bruising purple. The cold tears that fell from the sky awoke him into a world of harsh winds and rain. The heavens were blanketed with a thick fog and the stars were hardly visible through the hazy screen. He was cold, hurt, and scared. He tried to move but found his body only crying out with pain with each movement. Slowly he opened one eye and what his vision brought him made his blood run cold.

His heart stopped and his throat tightened. Seeing Son Gohan's form pale and motionless reeked fear and terror all through his body like a clawing animal tearing at his insides. The scene seemed to kick his body into gear and against his body's outrage; he jumped to his feet and ran to his fallen friend. His body was cold when he reached down to try and stir him, skin almost completely drained of color. Trunks' face went pale and he felt vomit slowly rising in his throat when noticed the space vacant on his left shoulder where Gohan's arm should have been attached.

"No …" Trunks stuttered as cold chills ran down his back. His mind went blank. "No… this can't be, please!"

With that he shook the form of his friend's body vigorously. "Oh no, God no… don't be! GOHAN!"

Tears leaked down his blood stained face. He began to shake Gohan harder and more violent praying that his friend was still alive.

"T-Trunks…"

It was barely a whispered exhale and could possibly not have been heard by anyone else over the raging storm but he heard it. A great wave of relief washed over him. Thinking fast Trunks tried to calm himself enough to speak.

"Don't worry Gohan I'm going to get you out of here hold on! You're going to be okay I swear!" His panicking voice was shaking but it gave out the message. Carefully pulling the wounded fighter over his shoulders Trunks steadied himself to fly off to the only person who would know what to do. He flew back to Capsule Corp.

Bulma was beyond worried. Trunks new that he was strictly supposed to be back in the house before nightfall; and what was more, Gohan was suppose to be with him to make sure that he was returned at a reasonable hour. It was already past midnight and she was becoming paranoid. Did something happen to her little boy? He never was late coming home. He knew the dangers that were at risk, especially after nightfall.

That thought made her stop dead in her tracks as an ice trickling fear raked up and down her back. Her body froze and the cigarette she had in her mouth fell to the floor. Bulma tried to take deep breaths and swallows but her throat constricted dryly. Chills suddenly fell over her and cold sweat began to bead down her face. Her heart beat sped up and pounded violently, and with each beat they grew harder until she was afraid it would burst through her chest in a blaze of fire. Her little boy, her only son, could not be… at that thought her right arm began to convulse unnaturally.

She grabbed at her hand to steady it but it wasn't working. Her legs were the next to give out and she collapsed to the ground with an angry thump of her bare knee hitting the floor. Bulma could feel her heart beat increase and the choking gasps she made to attempt to bring in air as the room began to swirl and spin. No, not now. She can't have this happening to her now. She could not give up on her son. He was a strong boy, he had to be alive. He had Gohan with him; he would return safely, he had to.

She forced these soothing thoughts into her mind in a comforting mantra and banished her fear and worry into a well packed closet in the back of her mind. She felt her breathing return subtly and her heartbeat gradually began to slow down. Bulma sagged her head and let the cold sweats roll from her forehead onto the floor below. Her mind was still reeling and the room was still spinning before her eyes, but she tried her best to calm herself down and think things through.

Bulma had gotten worried around nine o'clock. When the clock struck ten she became a nervous wreck and knew something was wrong. She had went beyond her power and left her home to look for him herself at that point. The small assembly of authority figures still around had stopped filing missing children's reports. All of the children that were reported missing turned up dead a few days later and they began to turn false eye to parents who were seeking help.

This left her to look alone. As much as the dangers were at risk, nothing could stop her from venturing out into open land to find her son. It proved to be impossible however determining the harsh storm and lightless streets and forests so she decided it would do her best to wait at home in case he came home or at least until morning came and she could properly see.

She was still pathetically curled on the her living room floor, cradling her unresponsive arm when she heard the banging sound of the kitchen door flying open and beat against the opposite wall. Bulma had to forcefully pull her body from the ground and went barreling into the kitchen.

"Trunks!" She hollered in relief, but also with an agonizing fury. "Where have you been?! I've been looking for you for the last…"

Her next words died out in her throat as she stared at the boy that was her son and the wounded man in orange Gi over his shoulders. Both Trunks and the boy, who she recognized could faintly recognize as Gohan, were covered with mud and blood; their clothes, tattered and Gohan seemed barely holding onto life.

"My god…" Bulma's hand rose to cover her mouth.

"Please help him mom…" His voice was broken, cracked, and almost dead of all emotion but pure pain. He looked desperately at her with his face stained with tears and blood.

Bulma wasted no time and ran up to her boy and knelt down to him to pull him in a bone crushing hug.

"Bring him to my lab I'll see what I can do." She said.

Trunks sniffed and nodded his head and without hesitation quickly sprinted down to the lab with his mother hot on his trail.

It had been six long hours before Trunks saw his mother again. While she tried her best to keep Gohan alive, he had to wait out every grueling minute outside her lab room door. She had come out once or twice to check on his wounds, but nothing was life threatening and she patched up his cuts and went back to Gohan. While he waited in the hallway his young mind reeled in the unpleasant thoughts; "if Gohan will be alright" or "will those creatures come back to finish the job" ran through his mind without him having comfort for these troubling questions.

The biggest thought however that consumed his mind was in fact the two androids that had started all of his turmoil. He never thought all his life that his nightmare would exist and then there they were, clear as day, as monstrous as he dreamt. They were every bit as nightmarish as he predicted and worse. They almost ended his only true friend's life as well as his own. He had no idea that the monsters everyone was secreting from were the wretched vile creatures from his nightmare.

Not only that, but in accepting the fact that the creatures were real would mean that his nightmare wasn't just a dream, that it was real as well. All those men who died that night were real people, his mother's harsh cries and shrieks were all very real events. He was living IN his nightmare, and the reality of that scared him more then anything

And so he sat, back resting against the wall legs folded tightly to his chest. He never spoke even one word, never stood to pace the room in anxiousness, never even took the time to blink. Only staring blankly at the opposite wall with complete terror wreathing in his red-rimmed eyes. While the rain washed away most of the blood from his face, the tear stains running down his cheeks and swollen red eyes complimented with heavy black bags suited him in one of the most desolated features. His eyes, void of life, stared emptily in front of him, gazing at the opposite wall like he was a mindless china doll.

The door slid open. Out walked on thumping boots his mother. Her once white lab coat was now tarnished with the dark splotches of blood. She walked from the door and stood in front of Trunks, removing the matching blood covered rubber gloves from her hands.

"He's going to survive." She said reassuringly. Trunks lifted his head.

When she saw the look of complete devastation and fear in his eyes she sighed. "He suffered from major blood loss, but he'll live. I've fixed his ribs and put him under a narcotic that will keep him sedated and dull the pain until morning. Then we can do something about his arm. Maybe a prosthetic will do, just like my leg perhaps."

Trunks' face fell back down to stare at the wall again. None of the words seemed to have effected or comforted him like Bulma had hoped.

"It's my fault."

Bulma's head shot down to stare at the form of her son. Her brows furrowed.

"It's all my fault this happened." He choked out grabbing his knees to pull tightly to his chest. "If I would have just gone away when he told me, none of this would have happened." Tears began to leak down his face again, running a clear line down the grime of his face.

Bulma sighed and knelt down to sit next to her son, back against the wall.

"It's not your fault Trunks." She told him solemnly. "They would have done something like this whether or not you ran. You should just be thankful that you both are at least still alive."

But the words did not change his features. His face was set in a fear struck manner. She had tried her best to keep her only son from the hands of the androids. She had tried nothing harder then to keep his innocent mind still innocent. She knew that if her Trunks ever found out that the creatures from his nightmare were real it would tear him apart. She knew that it would be hard to get him through this, if he ever would.

Again she took a deep breath and threw one of her arms over his tense shoulders and gave him one of her infamous smirks, never being one to ever smile.

"Besides, staying put and fighting even when the chips are down was the bravest thing you could have done, not running away. Your father would be proud."

That comment caused Trunks' head to rise slightly and he gazed into his warm mother's face with hollow eyes. His mother never spoke of his father openly. He would always have to yank information out of her and at his mention caused something small to pang in his young heart. He knew his mother was only mentioning his father now to try and lift his grief, and the thought warmed him like being wrapped into a cocoon of warmth, but just as soon as it came, it left him just as quick; releasing him to fall into an icy lake.

"No he wouldn't." Trunks sniffed wiping his running nose with his arm. "I was not brave. I was scared stiff. I was so wrapped up in my own fear that I didn't even have enough sense to help Gohan when he needed me the most! I WAS A COWARD!"

His eyes lit up in rage and the angry tears flowed heavier down his face. He clenched his fists and stared at the floor with a deep shameful expression. Bulma only looked at her son's hurt expression quietly.

"Did Gohan ever tell you about the first time he was in battle?" She asked him retreating her arm.

Trunks stopped for a second and looked at his mother curiously. She in turn accepted his look as a no.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "It was many years ago. Gohan was only four at the time." She said and coughed, reopening her eyes. "Son Goku's brother Raditz had come to ask for his assistance in galactic piracy. When Goku refused Raditz attacked him and Gohan was powerless against him." She paused and looked down at Trunks.

His eyes were captivated by her story so she continued. "You see Trunks, he was so afraid, that he couldn't do anything. After that Raditz kidnapped Gohan and threatened to kill him if Goku didn't join him."

She heard Trunks give a quick intake of breath. "Goku of course still refused and went after Raditz to get back his son. It was only until Gohan realized that his father's life was in jeopardy did something snap and he attacked Raditz in a blind rage."

Trunks stared at his mother wondrously. He had never known Gohan had been in such a situation like he had. What more was that it struck a cord to his present situation. He hadn't gotten over his fear only until the life of his friend was truly on the line. Then something just snapped in him and everything else went cloudy, or more realistically, everything went _red_. He didn't really remember anything past that one minute when pure anger consumed him and the howling of some enraged beast.

Gohan had been through the same thing he did. He might have been younger but that only made it worst. Such a young boy was exposed to the brutality of battle was down right wrong. It made him rethink his current thoughts. It was his first time ever experiencing true battle and most certainly not his last.

If anything he needed to move on and learn from this experience, not weep over it in self pity. If not only for himself, but for Gohan as well. He would have to be strong and show Gohan that he could take this experience and use it to his advantage, rather then let it break him down. He would show him that he could be strong and fight. He wouldn't let this stop him. He needed to grow from this and with that grow stronger from it.

That brief second where all his anger burst free in that amazing rush of energy, he needed to master it, whatever the weird sensation was. He needed to learn how control its plateaus and be able to hone the true power that lay hidden deep inside him. He wouldn't disappoint Gohan, or his father.

"So you see." His mother's raspy voice brought him back from his thoughts. "Being afraid is not something you should be ashamed of. Gohan learned to control his fear and anger and veer it into power. And there's no doubt in my mind you can do the same. Its in your blood after all."

Trunks looked up into the soft features of his mother. Though her delicate face was marred with many old scars, some he knew resulted in chemical accidents, others like the short jagged one that cut straight across her lips or the one that sat diagonally cross her left brow and continued through her eye and cheek, were a mystery to him. Though he had a sneaky suspicion that it involved two certain androids. She had briefly told him that right after they struck, they had attacked West City and destroyed Capsule Corp Building and she barely made it out alive, though at the cost of her left leg.

Trunks sniffed and wiped away the remainder of his tears with a bruised hand. His mother always had a cooling effect on him no matter what circumstance.

"I'm sorry mom." He said sincerely. "I promise I will one day become strong enough and destroy these damn monsters."

The side of Bulma's lip curled up almost revealing a smile and she reached over to pull her son in a warm embrace. "I know you will baby." She cooed in a relaxing tone. "I know you will one day make momma proud."

They stayed like that for a long while, Trunks completely content to being in his mother's embrace. Trunks nestled up in his mother's lap like an infant, sniffing and hiccupping every now and then. She patted his back and held him close, letting him shed the rest of the hurtful tears that still loomed there.

"Hey come on now." She nudged Trunks with her shoulder. He looked up at her and sniffed.

"Lets get up and I'll make us some coffee. The sun'll be out soon and we both had one hell of a night." She gave him a playful wink.

Trunks rubbed his puffy eyes and nodded. Reluctantly getting out of his comforting mother's lap, the two joined hands and walked to the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

Nightmares

Chapter 7

A couple cups of coffee and dry clothes later and Trunks had considerably calmed down a bit. The fear he had from the androids didn't dissipate, but he no longer felt like a nervous helpless little boy. His shock had somehow put his mind on freeze and only now after the official scare wore off had he finally had time to digest everything and the results were to say the least, anything but cheerful.

"Hey."

Trunks raised his lavender toped head and peered up at the familiar face of his mother as she walked back into the kitchen. As usual she had placed her hair in a messy low braid and had a cigarette between her lips.

Trunks looked away, his brows furrowed. He somehow felt angry with his mother. She knew all along that the androids were real and yet she said nothing. His small fists clenched. He lowered his head down to stare at the brown mixture swirling in his mug, the steam rising and wafting the sweet scent of crushed coffee beans into his face.

He felt something drape over his shoulders. Turning his head he slightly to the side he caught a glimpse at a light blue blanket over his shoulders. He grabbed the edges with one hand and pulled it closer to his body, still refusing to utter a word or even look at his mother.

Trunks heard her sigh and the screeching of a chair as it was pulled up next to his. He felt her take a seat and could almost hear her thought process turning in her mind. He could always tell when his mother was in thought. Her brows furrowed and her lip curled up in the slightest hint of a frown.

"You blame me."

Trunks made no reply. He wasn't sure if he could trust himself to speak without saying something hurtful. Instead he kept his blue eyes locked on large blood stain on the kitchen floor. The blood stain that had come from Gohan. He unconsciously pulled the edges of the blanket tighter.

Another sigh. "Trunks. You know I did it for your own safety."

"A lot of good that did." Trunks sneered. His eyes began to show off the anger he felt swell inside his gut.

His mother looked at him, but Trunks refused to look back at her. If he did, he would have seen the look of intense pain cross her face.

"I – I never wished for this to happen." Her voice was distant and fragile, like something that came out of a broken willed person who was an inch away from breaking down into a fit of tears.

He had never heard such a tone out of his strong, proud mother since that one fateful day in the Capsule 3 when he found her huddled over a broken bot and crying harder then he had seen anyone before. This time he couldn't stop himself from looking at her with a mixture of shock and confusion.

He instantly regretted saying his harsh words when he noticed the look they caused on her face. She looked shaken and hurt; her eyes were wide and empty, like a piece of cold glass. They held agony and guilt and maybe a hint of buried sorrow and the way she stared at him; he felt like his whole soul came apart. She gazed at him with those pain filled eyes as if she had failed him somehow.

"I only wanted to protect you." She breathed heavily. Her voice just as broken and lost as before. "I didn't want you to see what those monsters had done. With your nightmares…I didn't want you to have to face them so soon…you're still so young Trunks-chan…"

Trunks-chan… She hadn't called him that since he was very young. It was a baby name for him she showered upon him as one of the small forms of affection she displayed openly. The result of her using it now so dismally only seemed to bring him a dull ache in his heart where it should have cause him a swelling of glee.

"I always knew you'd find out." She continued. "I knew I could never stop you from fighting against these monsters…it's in your blood after all. But…I never wanted you to find out like this…never like this…"

Then, for the second time in his life, he witnessed the unfamiliar beads of liquid swell in her crystal eyes and run down her face. Any anger he held for her shriveled up and died instantly.

She didn't break down and sob, never crashed into a fit of hysterics, just a gentle flow of tears streaking down her flawed face. She sniffed and tried to wipe them away so he wouldn't see them, but it was obvious to him they were there. His dear mother…she tried to be so strong for him.

"I…I have failed you…my son…" The tears came down harsher, her shoulders slouched and she bowed her head, hiding her shame in the protective cover of her hands. "My baby…I have failed to protect my baby…"

Trunks couldn't take seeing his mother look so weak. He rose from his chair and moved to sit in her lap, wrapping his small arms around her shaking body. The action seemed to affect her and she pulled him into her chest, her arms squeezing tightly against him as if he were going to leave her. Never. Never would he ever leave his momma.

"Momma?" His voice was cracked; he could feel her own tears triggering his own.

She responded with a small shudder and sob, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

"You didn't fail me. Never. It was my fault, not yours. Never yours."

His words seemed to have a soothing affect on her and she pulled away slightly to stare at his round face. Her mouth tipped into a rare, and in his eyes, beautiful smile.

"You are so brave. My baby, facing such extremities so young…" She sniffed. Her hands came up to cup his cheek and wiped away the small tears he had unknowingly shed. "Your father really _would_ have been proud."

"I promise momma." He buried his face in his mother's comforting bosom, letting the tears run freely down his face. He didn't care how pathetic it might have looked, this was his mother, and she was everything to him. "I promise I will one day destroy these things."

His mother let out a heart wrenching sob and held him tightly. Together they stayed there much through the night, just holding each other as mother and son, letting out all their pain and grief in quite sobs. Both mumbling apologies for things they had done or for the wrongs they had caused to each other, and both feeling like they had never felt more at piece then nestled so tightly together.

* * *

A/N: Okay I did not like how this chapter came out. It wasn't supposed to be so emotional and I think it came out entirely too sappy. sigh I am not so good at writting overly sentimental bullcrap and whatnot but I wanted to get something posted. My files had been deleted so I had to rewrite all of my chapters over again and I couldn't remember how I made this chapter. Oh well, I hope you guys can bear it, or at least, review tell me your opinion, because I am NOT happy with the way this came out.


	8. Chapter 8

Nightmares

Chapter 8

Two Weeks Later

Bulma had returned to her invention, Gohan was back up and walking, and Trunks was training harder then ever. Thanks to the speedy healing properties of the Senzu bean, Gohan made a swift recovery. However strong the power of the magical bean was, sadly it could not restore Gohan's severed limb. Bulma had talked to him and even volunteered making a prosthetic for him, however Gohan sternly refused; saying something about it just slowing him down. Bulma had let it go, taking the time to work harder on her time machine.

Ever since the last incident with the androids and his small talk with his mother, Trunks began a long and hard road of training. Not only with Gohan, but when he would return home he would do nothing but practice and try to grow stronger. Bulma had caught him many times through the early hours of the morning doing some almost humanly impossible training exercises. She at first began to worry and had asked Gohan about the strange new development. He had told her that for the past two weeks he had been training with him with much more extreme exersices per his request but not to worry since Trunks was just determined about achieving his goal.

It at first concerned her to believe that her young son was pushing himself so hard to fight against the very beings that destroyed everything that mattered to her. She would be lying if she said that she didn't fear for his well-being, but just one look into his eyes while he was training, she saw such passion, such fervor in his each move and technique, she knew that she couldn't deny him what he was set to do.

It amazed her how determined he looked when he was training, she felt a sharp jab in her chest when she realized what a resemblance watching Trunks practice compared to his father, who was also completely absorbed and indomitable with his training as well. He was always so determined to reach his goal, something about reaching "The Legendary." It broke her heart to realize that his life's dream, the very thing he tried to achieve every single day of his life, was crushed the day the androids came and robbed him of the rite of ever reaching his goal.

That was truly why she didn't - couldn't keep Trunks from doing what he wanted to do. She couldn't deny her son the opportunity to reaching his goal. It wasn't in her heart to keep his goal from him knowing his father didn't have a chance to achieve one of his own. But Bulma tried to looked on the bright side of things. Now that Trunks was spending so much time with his training, that left her with even more time to work on her time machine; now that she didn't have him to constantly interrupt her.

Trunks had spent every spare second he could training. Ever since he found out that he had enough power to take on the androids, he worked himself harder, trying to one day be able to achieve that power. The day he transformed, he felt such power and it made him feel unstoppable. If he could only reach that level again, if he could attain that amount of power and master it, he knew he could destroy them. That little bit of information was enough to push Trunks further, that small spec of hope that seemed unreachable was almost in his grasp.

He never told his mother about the transformation he reached while facing against the androids. He didn't understand why, but he didn't think it was the best idea. Gohan had reached that level and so did Gohan's his father. When Trunks asked if his own father reached such extraordinary powers, he was crushed to hear that he hadn't. It confused him how such a powerful man like his father could not attain the power in all his lifetime of hard work, and that he could in just a few short years and a massive anger outburst. Gohan however told him that it was easier for them to attain it because they were of mixed human blood and their strength depended more heavily on their emotions.

Whatever that meant.

However, Gohan refrained from mentioning anything more about his father. He told him that it was not his place to tell him and if he wanted information about who he was and where he came from he would need to consult his mother. Yeah right, he had about as much chance getting his mother to talk about his father like a snowball's chance of surviving in hell.

So with a sigh, he had dropped the thought for the time being, letting the hope-filled thoughts of a better tomorrow could be built enter his mind. He stood up after he finished his one finger push ups and wiped the sweat from his brow. His choppy lavender bangs matted to his forehead from perspiration and he took the time to take a rest.

It had been a long night of exercising, or, judging on how much light entered the chambers, a good portion of the morning too. He knew his mother was going to be pissed when she found out that he spent another whole night training again. Lately she had made him swear to get some rest in between his workouts and he kept that promise to an extent. Sometimes if he would lose track of time like he had this night, he would take the time to sleep through the day, that was until Gohan arrived and he would resume his training with him and the routine would continue.

Trunks took a deep breath once again and trotted over to the nearby chair in the corner of the training room. He collapsed in it with a plunk and scanned the room he had started training in for the past week now. It was odd. Right after he told his mother about his new resolution, she had asked him to meet her in the Capsule 3 space craft out back. He was at first surprised to hear such a request, seeing as he had only ever known what the inside was like when he accidentally walked in on his mother's breakdown three years ago.

He was even more shocked when she had told him that she wanted him to use it to train. After showing him a few of the commands, he was impressed to realize that there was a gravity simulator programmed inside; a perfect feature for training. He was happy to accept such a kind offer; he knew instinctually that this room meant an awful lot to his mother- even though she would never tell him why- and too have him use it when she let no one touch it truly touched his heart. He was pleased to know that his mother supported him on his decision to train and fight rather then forbid it and keeping him away from it like most mothers would.

He lounged back into the chair and stretched mightily, earning a crack from his overworked bones. With a yawn, Trunks found himself in serious need of rest and that the objectionable wooden chair he sat in now would do little for satisfying that necessity. So, without wasting any time, Trunks rose himself and headed to the door.

"Computer, shut down." He announced to the echoing chambers.

"_Commencing shutdown sequence. Gravity returning to standard Earth setting. Have a nice rest Vegeta." _

The humming of the gravity room died out and the lights quickly faded. The room was left half lit by the early light of dusk passing through the windows. Trunks ignored the computerized voice as it once again labeled him by someone else's name. It seemed that his mother forgot to reprogram the system to his name. It didn't bother him, in fact, it made him quite curious as to who the ship belonged to first. That name… he had heard his mother sometimes call him that when she was yelling at him. At first he believed that maybe it was his middle name but now he wasn't so sure. He shrugged it off and left the gravity room, slamming and locking the door behind him and trotted to the house.

When he made it to the back door he quickly typed in the code and scooted inside when it permitted him entry. The first thing he noticed was that none of the lights were on. Good. Hopefully that meant his mother was still asleep. He crept through the kitchen and was about to make it to the steps when a strong scent suddenly wafted in his face, almost making him his sneeze. The thick smell of nicotine filled the room, his evidence that his mother was awake. A familiar raspy cough was his second clue and he spotted movement from the living room. He snuck to the doorpost, effectively hiding himself behind the frame, and peered in.

He spotted his mother's head, lavender mass of scraggily unkempt hair, lounging back into her favorite comforter, phone cradled to her ear and a cigarette held between her index and middle finger. She seemed to be in a very private conversation and had yet to notice his presence. Trunks cursed to himself and tried with all his power to come up with some way to sneak past his mother without her noticing him. To get to the stairs he would need to pass through the living room. It might seem easy to some, considering his speed, but he knew his mother was not to be underestimated. She had eyes in the back of her head. She always knew when he was sneaking about, even if he was faster then her. While thinking over escape routes, he inadvertently over heard her conversation over the phone.

"I just don't know what to do anymore." He heard his mother tell the person over the phone. "He has been training so hard for the past couple weeks, and while I am proud of him, I just can't seemed to get him to take a break. He has been so involved with his training. I can't even get him to talk to me about it any more. He spends all his time in the gravity room; it's as if he's acting just like... just like…"

Trunks brows furrowed as he listed to his mother talk. Why would she be talking about him? Or more importantly, WHO was she talking to? His mother never talked to _anyone_, especially over the phone. She was always to herself and sometimes him. Always alone, she was always alone.

His mother was quiet for the next few moments, as if unable to finish her sentence. He could faintly hear a muffled voice over the receiving end of the phone, yet he was unable to hear what they were saying. Whatever it was however, it seemed to calm his mother down and she sighed and pulled some hair from her face.

"Yeah I know Chi-Chi, he isn't _him, _but sometimes its just so hard to ignore the similarities." His mother said. "You should see the way he looks during his training, I swear to god if he wasn't _his_ son…"

From what his mother had just said she was talking to someone named Chi-Chi. He wasn't sure, but if his memory served him correctly; that was the name of Gohan's mother. But then that made him more confused, didn't Gohan tell him that his mother had stopped talking after his father died? He knew that it was a very sensitive subject to Gohan. In fact, he remembered the first time he asked Gohan about his mother. He blew up on him in a fit of rage and went way harder on him then usual in their daily sparring. Lest to say he came home with quite a few more bruises and fractured bones then usual.

Bulma sat across the lounge chair. In one hand she rested her cigarette and in the other rested phone. It had been along time since she had talked to anyone about her problems, even less to those who understood what she was going through.

Chi-Chi had become somewhat of a close acquaintance to Bulma over the years. They never were close to begin with, in the beginning Bulma only saw her as the 'woman who married her best friend', nothing more then that. But things changed after the androids came. Gohan had never mentioned his mother after the death of Son, so she was surprised to have gotten a phone call two years after the androids came from the raven-haired woman asking if what Gohan said was true and that she had a son.

Since then they had kept in contact with each other to a minuscule extent. Never had they ever seen face to face since Goku's funeral. For some reason however, Chi-Chi had requested that she kept her speaking patterns a secret from Gohan. For some reason she didn't want her son to know that she was still talking, Bulma didn't agree with the reason, but respected her wishes and remained silent.

"Bulma I may not have particularly cared for Trunks' father and I may not ever fathom what convinced you to have a child with him, but Trunks has a right to know about his father." Chi-Chi's soft voice said. Even though she spoke Bulma could always feel the deep burden of sorrow in her voice that never lifted since Goku's death.

Bulma's heart suddenly pounded heavy.

"I don't know if now would be a good time for that. I don't think he's ready to hear that."

"No Bulma. You don't think YOU'RE ready to hear it." Chi-Chi corrected.

Bulma sighed and dragged her hair back, pulling her cigarette to her lips and inhaling sharply.

"Listen Bulma." The woman continued before she had the time to counter. "You may not want to believe me when I say this, but you are afraid to tell Trunks about his father."

"Afraid?!" Bulma snarled. If it was one thing about Bulma she did not like it was to be told she was scared or weak.

"Yes Bulma." Chi-Chi answered calmly, contrary to Bulma's now shrieking tone. "You are afraid to relive what happened when the androids came. I know for a fact that it wasn't the easiest of times for you, for anyone. However, Trunks has a right to know about his father, about who he was and WHAT he was. Whether you want to believe it or not Trunks has his father's blood flowing through his veins. You need to bite back your own fear and just tell him." She said quietly. "He needs to know."

Bulma growled and jumped up from her seat angrily, causing Trunks to jump and recoil farther behind the door post.

"He'll know when he's good and ready!" She yelled over the phone. "How dare you tell me what is good for my own son! How can you say that I am afraid to tell him such things?"

"He has to know sooner or later. The sooner the better and you know it. What little knowledge he does know about what he is was from my Gohan. Right now he is confused and hurt and he needs you."

"I am giving him all the support I can dammit!" Bulma shouted in rage. "I've been trying help him as much as I can. He needs all the support he can get!"

"What he needs is guidance." Chi-Chi said softly. "Clarification. How else is he going to be able understand anything about himself? There are so many things he needs to know that are holding him back –"

"I will tell Trunks when he's ready! He's too young to have to worry about such a burden! This isn't a light subject Chi-Chi! He wouldn't be able to sustain such information, I can't have him knowing what happened to everyone when _they_ came!"

"You're in denial from what happened Bulma."

"Bullshit!" Bulma screamed. Her anger had reached beyond limit. Her face turned red and her eyes sparkled with fury. "You're the one in denial Chi-Chi!"

It got quiet on the other end of the phone.

"You haven't spoken a word since Son died and when you eventually came around to it you didn't even want your own son to know about it! So tell me, who's really in denial?"

There was silence followed by a solemn click of the line disconnecting. Bulma clutched the phone tightly in her hand as she heard this. After growling she pulled it down from her ear and stared down at the receiver.

"Damn it." She grumbled. "I'm sorry Chi-Chi."

She felt like a fool now. She didn't mean to get so upset. To make things worse, she had inadvertently hit on a subject she knew was very unstable to Chi-Chi. She hadn't meant to go that far. Cursing one more time at her own idiocy, Bulma flung the cordless phone carelessly back on the couch and headed for the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee.

Trunks' heart raced as he watched his mother head in his direction. His mind buzzed with escape routes as well as plausible excuses in case he was caught. To his relief his mother walked right passed him not noticing him against the opposite wall at all and continued to drag her feet to the kitchen.

'_She must rely be out of it.' _He thought to himself. Never had he gone unnoticed by his mother like that. It made him worried. His mind was still focusing on her "conversation" she had on the phone. His mother wanted to tell him something? About what? It was all very unclear to him. Why was it so hard to just tell him about something? Surely he could handle whatever she could tell him, he just survived through a battle with the androids, the most vicious creatures on earth! For sure he could manage a few vowels and syllables.

His mother looked different however. When she was on the phone, her face went pale and she immediately began to scream at the other person. He knew whenever his mother revealed even the smallest form of weakness she hid it behind anger and yelling. She was scared, whatever she wanted to tell him _scared_ her. That made Trunks feel unnerving. There wasn't much that scared his mother, she had come face to face with death and despair and never once flinched, but a few words could?

He didn't like it. It didn't feel right. If whatever his mother wanted to tell him was so terrifying, he didn't know if he really wanted to hear it. Was something that bad? What could be worse then the androids? Trunks couldn't fathom, and right at that moment, he didn't think he wanted to. Now that his mother was in the kitchen and the living room was cleared, the only thing he was concerning over was getting upstairs and taking a long rest.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

Nightmares

Chapter 9

Bulma was silent as she stared down at the glass in front of her. In one hand she held an empty glass and in the other held a bottle of scotch. Bulma had planned to make herself a nice cup of coffee to relax her nerves but somehow she wound up going to her liquor cabinet instead.

Only half sober and lost in thought Bulma brought the bottle to her hungry lips and took a more then generous swig, glass forgotten. She felt like crap and she didn't know what to do about it. What had happened to her life? She was once the live vivacious beauty who thrived for adventure, loved by all and loving life. But now she was left as a bitter woman who shirks at the slightest sign of attention. Ever since that unfortunate night everything changed.

The day everything went to hell. When all her friends and family died, apart of her died as well. She no longer cared about how her hair looked or how her make-up was done or how the world even perceived her at all. She shut herself out and only reserved herself to stowing way in her lab and tending to her son - the only thing binding her to sanity.

Now, she was no longer this raving young beauty but a bitter cold-hearted middle-aged woman. Her once glorious lavender hair was that was once her prized trophy was now a stringy mass carelessly thrown in a messy bun or braid spekcled with grey. Her face no longer shined with youth and no longer radiated with beauty, now it was hardened and set in stone. Her milky surface was tarnished with thin lengthy scars, on her face, hands, and many other places across her body. Many from acid burns and other chemicals from her lab when she stopped caring enough about her appearance to wear goggles or other safety precautions, and other more memorable ones she had received from fighting.

Yes, the infamous Bulma Briefs had sullied her hands in fighting. Yet another circumstance to drink over. Most would have laughed at the thought of her taking up fighting. After the incident with the androids, Bulma had to toughen herself up in order to properly defend herself against attacks from dangerous street thugs and selfish mongrels wanted her rations. Though she was not stronger then maybe an above-average human, she was quick and strong enough to get around and defend herself from the raving people of earth who'd attack her to steal her belongings. She never learned to fly or manipulate Ki, all her firepower were in her trusted firearms and blast grenades.

It was hard at first, seeing as she was missing one leg. Bulma's aged eyes lowered to where her right leg should have been connected. Now only a shiny metal prosthetic gleamed back at her, reminding her of her loss with every hiss of the metallic hinge the "knee" made when it bent. After the androids had killed everyone, they had blasted her home and she was caught under the rubble. The effort to get herself free cost her, her leg. Since then she had to fight to get anything she needed, grocery shopping began a dangerous game of fight for your survival and she now fashioned permanent scarring as proof of all her struggles. The one that crossed over her left eye thankfully did not render her sight; however, the color of her iris was now noticeably lighter then the other. She was confronted with an aged man after a trip from the market, where he demanded her food. Still being naive and defiant back then, she refused. In the end the man attacked her and stole her goods, not before slicing her face with a pocket knife. It was her first scar and the first instant where she stopped caring about her appearance. And now she couldn't tell you how many people she had injured and fought to get food for herself and her son or help protect the crumbling remnants of their home from street walkers and selfish homeless who would kill a child for food and shelter.

This was what war had done to the once effervescent Bulma Briefs; reducing her to a harsh drinking angry woman. Bulma rose her bottle in the air as if giving a toast. 'To my life and all the hell that's in it.' She thought forlornly and took a huge gulp. She didn't care for herself and could care less if she lived or died. The only reason she did in fact keep going was for the sake of her son. Trunks deserved a good life. She'd be lying if she said that the whole idea for the time machine was to benefit the planet. No, Bulma could care less about the world, she was only doing it in hopes that her son would have a future. He meant the world to her and he deserved better in life then what was given to him, and that was the only reason she kept fighting. And if not for her son, Bulma knew she would have killed herself long ago. Bulma knew, even if she hided it from her son, she pitied herself.

Now, eight years later, what was left of Bulma was a broken woman. She had brought up her son the best way she could considering the circumstances. She became tough and hard on him, but only for his benefit. He wouldn't go far in this life if he was weak and foolish because she pampered and sheltered him from the truth of the world.

Now as she watched her son grow up, she noticed the growth of his character, his ambition, and his responsibility. It hurt her to know that her small boy, the only person she ever cared for anymore, was going to fight against the very creatures that tormented her life, but she was also proud. Proud that he had owned up to this responsibility when he learned it and not cower from it like most others would. It made her proud to know that he was honestly trying to live up to the expectations and beyond. To prove to her and the world he could protect them. And she could also see a hint that he was trying to prove something to his father too.

Bulma lifted her head drowsily and stared beyond her bottle of scotch she now found to be empty. Maybe Chi-Chi was right. Maybe it was time for Trunks to finally learn about his father. Something inside her began to sting. An unfamiliar feeling a lot like heartache began to open. She didn't know if she could honestly go through and tell Trunks. Her heart ached and forbade her to even bring up the topic so she never even mentioned his name to her own son. Just thinking that made her feel guilty.

She knew she was being selfish, but a part of her wasn't ready to open up yet. She wasn't sure she could ever open up so vulnerably again, not even for her own son. She had to remain strong, for herself and for Trunks. She knew this subject would tear down the mental wall of stability she had worked nine years to build.

She didn't think she could handle it. Remembering him meant bringing up her other close friends that died that day. Feelings she locked up since that day would break free and she was honestly afraid of what would happen after being buried so long. How would Trunks handle it either? She was sure that with his mind he could manage it fine, but she was never so strong. She was an emotional person which was why it was so hard to be strong. Many times she had to give in to her heart and cry, but never in front of Trunks. It pained her to see herself like that and to think of what Trunks thought when and if he saw her like that tore her apart.

When the moment came to it, she would store away late at night inside the Capsule 3 when she got too emotional, and usually would stay in there till she cried herself to sleep. Other times she would drink herself to drown out the pain, then wake up to the wails of a scared Trunks crying about how he couldn't wake her up. But over the years she had gotten better at controlling her emotions. She hadn't drunk herself to unconsciousness since Trunks turned seven.

She learned to close an iron gate around her weak heart and made it into a cold frozen shell. It made life easier. To open up the fresh wounds after so much work seemed improbable. But again, maybe it was finally time. Bulma sighed and dropped the hand that held her beverage by the shaft, clinking it against the table. Scratching her head with her free hand Bulma languidly stood up, shoulders sagging. Today was not starting in the best of ways and by the looks of it; the rest of the day wasn't going to be any better.

Exiting the kitchen Bulma slouched down the hallway. She stopped when she reached the stairs and gazed at them intently, almost thoughtfully. With a heavy sigh, and almost against her will Bulma slowly walked up the stairs and headed for her nine year's old room. At first she did nothing but stare at the white door as though waiting for it to tell her how the hell she was going to do this. Slowly she crept open the door and peered in.

There she was first hit with the waves of an impressive snore. She locked her eyes with the sleeping form of Trunks spread generously across his bed with the blankets thrown off. Bulma opened the door wider and quietly walked in. Avoiding the mess of clothes and comic books scattered about the floor, she made her way to his bed side. She gazed down at his sleeping form, spread out across his bed in an odd position of stretched and bent limbs. His breathing was deep and steady, and a slight trail of drool formed at the side of his mouth. She could tell by what he was wearing that he must have been tired. He still had on his training outfit, his boots were carelessly thrown off around the room.

Bulma reached down to gently move a stray bang from his face. The light lilac shade was what he had inherited from her. His eyes, however the color, is what he had received from his father. His thick brows of lavender narrowed down right on top of his eyelids, almost creating a V formation when he scowled – another annoying feature he had caught from his father.

He looked so peaceful, careless and innocent. It seemed wrong to put so much responsibility in such a young boy. He still had his whole life ahead of him. While most boys his age should only be concerned about mud wrestling and trying not to get "cooties" from touching girls, he already had the fate of saving the planet resting on his shoulders. He was being cheated out of his rite of childhood, something most of the kids now dealt with because of the androids.

With a sigh Bulma stroked her finger across his softly tanned cheek. He stirred slightly swallowed a few time but didn't wake. She gently pulled the covers up to his chin and lightly kissed his forehead. After the next few moments lost in her own thoughts, Bulma turned to head back down the stairs, this time actually set on some coffee, she didn't want her son to wake up and find her drunk again.

* * *

He grumbled and turned over, licking his dry lips and rolling over in bed. Finding no comfort in this new position, Trunks grumbled and raised his head and blinked the remainder of sleep from his eyes. He scratched the top of his lavender hair and yawned broadly. Sitting up his eyes fell over to his digital clock which shined with bright red numerals. 2:54 p.m. it read. Doing a double take, Trunks' eyes widened. He hadn't meant to sleep so late. Gohan would have come to train with him over an hour ago.

"Shit!"

Leaping from bed, Trunks scuttled around his room looking for his boots, cursing loudly for allowing himself to sleep so long. After he found one, he jammed his foot into it while hopping around to find the other. With a dash of unreachable human speed Trunks barreled down the stairs.

Eyes still bloodshot and hair still tousled from sleep, the lavender haired boy frantically searched around the house, praying that maybe Gohan was still there.

"MOM!!" Trunks yelled from the top of his lungs. Breathing heavy he raced through the living room and began his way to his mother's lab, the first place he would think to look for her.

"In here." He heard from the opposite direction.

Trunks skidded to a stop and stared in the direction her voice came from. It was coming from the kitchen. Turning swiftly he darted to the kitchen, somewhat alarmed that his mother was not in her lab.

He made it to the kitchen, heard her renowned cough, and spotted his mother sitting calmly by the table, legs crossed and a mug of, what he guessed by the smell, coffee. Her hair was thrown in a low sloppy bun and the only thing she wore was her deep violet robe that went down to her ankles.

When Trunks appeared by the door, Bulma's pale blue eyes opened and locked with his bright young ones. She seemed calm, despite the conversation he stumbled upon earlier that morning. She seemed composed but her expression read solemn and grave. He silently gulped wondering if the serious expression on his mother's face was because she had figured out his eavesdropping earlier that morning.

"Where's Gohan?" He asked nervously.

Bulma eyed him and closed her eyes again. "He came here about two hours ago. I told him to go back home and let you rest."

"What?!" Trunks exclaimed. "Why did you do that! Now how am I going to train without Gohan!"

He watched as his mother sighed and put her coffee down. It still irked him as to why she was so calm, and it only made his anger rise.

"You need your rest Trunks, it's not good for your health." She said solemnly. "You can't expect to do any better with an over-exhausted body."

"To hell with rest!" Trunks exploded on his mother. "I need to train and grow stronger! Not waist time napping!"

No sooner had those words left his lips had he felt a sharp blow across his back. He cringed as his knees buckled and he felt the familiar leather of his mother's belt make contact on his backside. His spread palms on the floor to keep him from falling flat on his face. His mother was a lot stronger then most earth women, something she had mentioned she had to do to protect them. It was the only explainable reason as to how she was able to move so fast.

"You better watch your mouth when you talk to me boy." Bulma hissed, baring her teeth. With her legendary green leather belt in hand she glared down at him.

Trunks lowered his head to stare at the floor. His residential anger faded and was soon replaced with guilt and shame. Silently he rose to his feet, hand grasping his rump. While it didn't hurt, the sting was still tingling the area of his flesh, seeing as she always used the buckle end to swat him. Trunks' next comment was mumbled to himself. He kept his gaze down knowing better then to say anything more until his mother spoke.

"You may have gotten a new responsibility." Bulma started. "But don't forget your place. I am you mother and you _will_ show me respect." She circled around him and sat back in her chair, refolding her leg over the mechanical one and placing her belt back in her pocket. It astounded him to think that his mother carried it around even when it was not necessary. Then again, that last fiasco just showed with practical motives as to why she kept it at hands reach.

Bulma reached into her other pocket and pulled out her Marlboros and trusted Capsule Corp. engraved lighter. Placing one of the sticks of weed between her lips she lit it and took a deep drag before pocketing the rest and stared at Trunks.

"Sit down." She exhaled with a jet of smoke. She motioned with the hand that held her cigarette to the seat across from her.

He obeyed silently and sat into the chair without fuss, knowing not to cross her. She still had that distant coolness in her expression. It unnerved him to have her look so serious. The distant look in her eyes told him that she was thinking about something.

After taking another deep inhale of her cigarette and throaty cough, Bulma pulled it from her lips and turned her attention to her silent nine year old. Smoke emitted from her lips and nostrils like a medieval dragon.

"I have been thinking a lot Trunks. You probably have a lot of questions about your father, some I probably can't answer." She stopped to look at him.

He stared back at her in somewhat confusion but still remained silent as ever.

"I've decided to answer your questions Trunks, whatever they may be as best I can." His mother coughed.

Trunks' eyes widened in shock. Did he just hear correctly? All his life he was waiting to have answers to the many blank faces in his memory and riddle like questions that buzzed through his mind. To have his mother out of the blue finally want to discuss them with him was baffling, but at the same time nerve-racking.

"R-Really?" He asked as though scared it was some sort of trick.

His only answer was a slow nod from his composed mother.

What triggered this sudden change? Did the conversation over the phone spook her out that much? The sudden unexpected willingness his mother protruded made his mind buzz with all his unanswered questions. He couldn't help but wonder if she would actually answer some of them. Most of the time when he even slightly mentioned one she grew angry and incomprehensible. Trunks mind raced. He couldn't place his thoughts in any sort of order. What would he even ask first? There was so much he wanted to know, so many things he wanted recognition for and he felt frustrated that he couldn't calm his mind enough to think of a single question to ask first.

"Well… can we start with his name?"


	10. Chapter 10

Nightmares

Chapter 10

For the past hour or so his mother had willingly flooded out information to answer all of his questions and his mind soaked up each one like a dry sponge. Little by little he stored away each bit of knowledge for later reference. The stories of his father's strength and obstinate determination he kept close to his heart. Like a warrior he would look to him for stability, for strength when he had none left.

There were something's a young man needed in his life. Having his father's esteem was one of them. Pride. That one syllable word had new meaning to him. As he sat listening to his mother tell the tales of his ventures after the destruction of his home world and how his father had to fight to survive built up an enormous amount of pride in his father. To know that he had survived through all that and still kept his head in the air proudly as a prince should.

Yes, when he found out his father was a prince of the entire planet put new levels to his horizon. He was royalty and he was stripped of everything, kingdom, country, and people. The only thing he had left was his name, his title, his pride, and the unwavering desire for vengeance. With that alone he had come through on top with his head held high and was able to survive and manage his pride as a Saiyan prince.

Not only that, but that also meant that he was royalty as well! A big ego-booster. Being of a royal family seemed almost feign. Like something out of a fairytale for children about dragons and wizards and rescuing princesses. He couldn't help but think it was ludicrous, what would any child think if their mother told them their father was an alien prince from another planet? If anything he would have guessed that this all was hogwash made to lure him on with false hope but he knew his mother was better then that.

And so she told and retold stories of their encounter on Namek, though more in detail, and his first arrival on earth. It delighted him to hear the epic stories that seemed too good for even a fairytale. He was glad to see that the misery that had shone in his mother's eyes had dwindled away and the bright shine he had missed when he was younger shined forth with a new rejuvenated warmth. He was happy to see his mother was no longer reluctant to discuss the matter of his father; she actually seemed to enjoy it.

Instead of causing pain like he had thought, it seemed to cleanse her soul. All she needed was to let it go and she would be able to move on. She actually smiled as she retold stories. They even shared a laugh at some points when she mentioned his first stay on earth when he knew nothing about earthling innovations, and his first acquaintance with the showerhead. With opening up so much he wasted no time asking everything he could without the fear of mentally hurting his mother. Asking everything from his personality to his favorite food. She even chuckled when she replied spare ribs and chocolate cake.

Though in light of it all, there were still some questions that she couldn't answer. Not because they were from painful memories, but merely because she honestly didn't know. With learning about coming from a different planet came the questions of what it looked like and what the people were like, things she couldn't have possibly known.

An empty void played at his heart, a vacant hole where his unanswered questioned filled like a tar. There was a part of his heritage that he would never know. Customs and legacies long died with his father, things he would never learn or hear. It pained him to think that he would never understand a part of him. He would never learn the traditions and rituals of his Saiyan ancestry, things he was sure his father would have passed on to him. He would never understand why something's are the way they are with him. Sure his mother could explain the brute of things, but there were things emotionally and physically happening to him that she could not comprehend. The only thing she could explain about him was that the stub at the base of his spine was where his tail used to be.

Trunks shivered.

The discussions didn't always stay so pleasing when the topic of the androids came up. Like an unsuspecting fog it crept over them both and the mood changed dramatically. At that Trunks had the unpleasant privilege to hear how his hero had fallen. His mother went into details that were less then comforting about how they had killed everyone while they stood on the guidelines trying not to bring attention to them. From there she had confirmed the question he asked her about his dream. It turned out that his nightmare was actually a memory of that day, go figure.

A part of him already knew that to be true but finally hearing it from someone else kind of raised it to his full attention. That meant that one of the victims in his dream was his father. He squinted his eyes trying to think if he could make out any of their faces. Sadly he realized that he couldn't. They were all just shadows and faceless beings lost in memory.

His mother had no pictures of him either, something at the moment she regretted. Sure she explained to him how he looked but it wasn't the same. He heard about his strong features and permanent scowl, his muscular physique, harsh cold heartedness, and the regal semblance that dared anyone to question his royalty. But it just wasn't the same. There would forever be a vacant hole in his chest without even knowing what his own father looked like.

The silence was broken by a heavy sigh from his mother. How long were they talking? An hour? Two or three? More? Time seemed lost but he didn't feel like he had wasted the day away even though previously he argued about missing training. Trunks felt in an odd way complete. He had finality. For so long he wanted questions to his answers and now he had gotten them.

True, nothing prepared him for what his mother had told him but you really couldn't blame him for that. He felt relieved that he now didn't have this emptiness that threatened to swallow him. The confusion was gone and replaced with understanding, something that had been inexplicably missing in his young nine years of life.

He turned to his mother who was staring inside her now half-empty mug of Joe. Her eyes in a trance like fashion alerting him that she was deep in thought. He stared at her for a short time, trying to guess what she was thinking. It must have been hard on her, especially in the beginning, losing everyone like that, but now he was just wondering what was going on in her head. Was she confused? Was she wondering why she hadn't gotten sad or angry about talking about his father like she normally would? Or even why she was happy that she did?

"Mom?"

"Hm?" Bulma turned her head to look at Trunks.

The mauve-haired boy was silent for a few seconds. "Was dad ever afraid? You know, when he faced the androids?"

His mother was quiet, which once again unnerved him. Briefly Trunks wondered if his mother would answer him or clam up as she often did when this subject was brought up.

To his surprised, his mother sighed and pulled the cigarette from her lips. "I'm going to be straight with you Trunks." She replied gravely. Her face fell into a serious expression he knew meant that she was not going to sugar coat anything like most would try to when explaining hard things to young children. No, she was going to tell him the bitter truth and right now, that is just what he wanted. If she just regurgitated sweet fantasies, he didn't want to hear it. Now was time to talk serious.

"No one knew that the androids were coming. They just appeared out of the blue." She said putting her cigarette back into place and taking another huge drag.

She coughed. "They first attacked East city and totally demolished it. There is nothing there now but a giant hole."

Trunks nodded. He knew that much. Bulma huffed and continued, "When word traveled – and it did fast – your father was the first to take this on as a new challenge. Unfortunately they had no life force, meaning it was impossible to sense them. He and the other guardians of Earth could not track them down. That was until they arrived in West City."

Trunks gulped. The gravely dead sound of his mother's voice told him that this story was not going to be like the others about valiant knights rescuing princesses and slaying dragons. Life had the unfair privilege of not always having happing endings, and as he already knew, this specific tale ended with blood.

"It was raining, or in reality, it was storming. Your father, Gohan, and you and I were holding out at the Capsule Corp. office." She said and stared at the ground. "The first thing they did was demand to see Goku. But of course, Goku had died from a deadly heart virus not long before their arrival. They at first didn't believe us and began their attack. Your father was nothing but glad about this and began to attack them right away, regardless if he was or wasn't strong enough. Gohan was able to somehow relay a message to his sensei Piccolo who alerted the others and they all came eventually."

"But what about you and me? Where were we?" Trunks asked.

"We were hiding out behind the shrubbery. Luckily Gohan was able to hide us before the androids noticed us, your father was too busy distracting the androids to notice that we were still there when he started fighting them." She told him.

"What do you mean? Didn't he know we were there and could have gotten injured during the fight? Didn't he care?"

Bulma sighed heavily. This was going to be so difficult to explain to her son. His father had always been the marker of his hero, in every aspect of the word. To tell him that the man didn't really care about them at the time didn't feel right.

"Your father was a warrior first and foremost Trunks, you have to realize this." She stated with another drag from her cigarette. She coughed hoarsely. "It was something that took me many years to swallow, and now you have to realize this too."

Trunks shook his head, contrary to believing that his hero didn't care about him like he had thought. "What-what are you saying?" He stuttered anxiously. A cold shiver ran down his back as the cold hard truth hit him like a train.

"Trunks, calm down–"

"NO!" Trunks hollered face growing red. "I can't believe he would just stand there and fight without a care if we got injured from a stray blast!"

Bulma remained calm despite her son's agitated behavior. She knew that this was going to be difficult, even more so then her. "Believe it Trunks, it's the truth." She said impassively. "Your father had always been that way, he was always afraid to get close to me or you."

Trunks face softened a bit, but the anger was still there. "Why?" He demanded hotly.

Bulma decided to let go of the usual instinct to berate him for acting as such to her and sighed again. "I don't know much about your father's past, but I do know that all his life he had never known empathy. He was trained to fight and kill and destroy, nothing more. Your father was not such a great man Trunks, despite what you might think. No body liked him when he first came to stay on Earth; in fact, all but Son resented and loathed him. He killed many, many people in his life time. That's why when he was forced to stay on Earth; he had no idea how to respond when people began to show him kindness. So naturally he pushed the unfamiliar emotions aside. He was afraid of delving into emotions he didn't know how to control. Your father was afraid to open up to us because he thought that those unknown feelings would make him weak. It was how he was raised Trunks."

Trunks remained silent, letting everything sink in. It was a few minutes before he spoke again. "I – I don't understand…" Trunks' eyes fell to the floor in confusion.

"In time you will Trunks." Bulma reassured. "Please don't hold this against your father Trunks. He may not have known it himself, but I knew he cared deeply for you."

Trunks had perceived that in that last sentence his mother did not state he cared for BOTH of them, rather only himself. He silently wondered if his mother believed that his father didn't truly care for her. It would explain why she was always so resistant to talk about him. In a way he could understand, but in another he resented her for leaving him ignorant for her own selfish purposes.

Trunks nodded his head, suddenly not in the mood to speak. His father was nothing like he had imagined. Of course he knew his father wouldn't be superman benevolent, but he never knew his father was so dark. To him he was always perfect, in every aspect. Strong, brave, proud, and determined, the very epitome of a perfect warrior. He wanted to BE him.

Even though he knew next to nothing about him minus the few heroic stories about his supreme power and strength he couldn't help but admire and idolize him. How bad could have his father been? But now he was suddenly hit smack in the face with the fact that he wasn't perfect, far from it, and he had his many faults. Some part of his imagined pride in his father shriveled up and died inside and he started to regret finding out his father was not the hero he once thought, but some dark murderer who everyone despised and that couldn't even bring himself to even admit that he cared for his own family, and in that sense, he hated to imagine what his father must have been like.

He never would have perceived things would have been so hard for his mother, either. His mother must have been looked down upon by the others having chosen him. The thought caused his eyes to sting and he felt the welling pain in his chest. The fact that his father was not a valiant knight fighting for what he believed in but rather some selfish arrogant man who cared only for himself made the tears gather in his eye. He suddenly was thankful for the all times his mother refused to tell him stories. Was his father that bad of a person? Was he really the son of something so depraved? Did the others spurn him for being the son of such a malicious person? It hurt to think such things. It wasn't his fault.

His mother's words suddenly ran in his ears. "_Please don't hold this against your father Trunks. He may not have known it himself, but I knew he cared deeply for you."_ He became suddenly angry with his mother. How could you tell him something like that and not expect him to get angry? He grew up without a father and to hear that he was such an evil person that everyone hated and that he could care less if his own son died made his unnatural blood boil.

Evil. That didn't seem like the right term. Trunks sighed dejectedly and gave up on his angry rant. Although he wasn't who he thought he was, Trunks still held his father in some regard. Sure his father probably did some dirty things in his life, but there had to be a cause right? He had his issues and Trunks assumed that he would probably have been the same way if he had grown up just to kill. That reassured him somewhat. The part of his father being a valiant knight crashed and burned, a dark knight was a more appropriate term that now imprinted in his thoughts, as much as it stung to think it. His father had to have somewhat seen the light, right? Maybe half way? Why else would he even stay on Earth? Why else would he not kill them? He didn't and that meant he did care, even if he couldn't admit it. There was only one real thing he could really think to ask to help clear this up.

"Mom?" Trunks said softly, as though afraid that speaking to harsh would shatter the moment.

"Hm?" His mother's gentle pallid blue eyes drifted to his.

"Did you love him?"

His words cut straight to her heart and the once pleasant expression on her face dropped completely into a guarded look. Tensely she turned her head and stared at the floor. Eye brows plummeting to further her scowling features.

She was silent for the longest time and he almost thought that she wasn't going to answer. Actually he was starting to regret asking that question. Moments ago she was happy to discuss such matters but they swiftly changed from content to contempt.

"I – I can't answer that Trunks." Was her quick reply, blue eyes hardening like sapphire stones.

Trunks face fell. He could have guessed that would be her answer. Though he wished she would explain to him more. He just wanted to know that, even though his father was a killer, that his mother did care for him. Because for sure if his mother cared for someone, there was something worth caring for.

"I never dwelled on such '_fantasies_.'" His mother suddenly said, almost bitterly. "Your father was a powerful man and such sentiments as love were completely alien to him. Maybe in time I could've grown to love him, or hell, maybe I did love the bastard at some point. But… your father Trunks …I could never tell what HE felt. I was always left in doubt. It's hard to love someone when you can't even tell if they can remotely stand you or not." Her eyes grew distant as though caught in an old painful memory.

She slowly chuckled. "But though he tried to hide things, sometimes, even for the briefest of seconds, I could see something…sometimes…." Her eyes traveled up to look at his expression. He looked lost and confusion was clearly enveloped in his eyes.

"He was a brutal man Trunks. He refused to open up to me. You have to realize that there was never a relationship between your father and me, as much as I wanted there to be at one point. Whenever I tried to get him to talk to me, he would become more distant from me. And when I found out I was pregnant with you, I had gone to him for support and he cruelly pushed me aside. I resented him for the longest time for that."

Trunks looked into the hurting expression of his mother yet said nothing, he knew better then to comment or else she might shut off completely like a clam and never talk about this again. He lowered his gaze to his feet.

With a sigh she again looked back into her mug, slowly moving her wrist in some circles to create a small whirlpool in her coffee. "He never even wanted to hold you as a baby Trunks. Apart of me always believed that he was disgusted for the fact that I had you. But deep down I know he cared for you."

"And how do you know that?" Trunks spat darkly, his voice deep and impassive, filled with undaunted hurt.

Bulma sighed again. "He had told me once, only briefly -and even sneered at me later for reminding him- that he would protect you because you were of his blood. At first I didn't understand but after you were a few months I would catch him sneaking into your room when he thought no one was looking and just stare down at you. He did this for the longest time. Every night he would come in and just look at you. For the first time in my entire life, I didn't see resentment in his eyes. I didn't see any disgust I thought he would have for you, only curiosity. Astonishment."

Trunks stared at her with confused blue onyx eyes. His brows furrowed and his lip bent down into an innate frown.

"When I finally confronted him he had totally blown things out of proportion, mostly from embarrassment, that I had found out his secret." Bulma' eyes drifted out the window. "He became so distant and cold to me since then, even worse then it was before and never again had he returned to you room at night. I sometimes wish that I didn't tell him I knew. Maybe we could have gotten closer…"

Her voice faded and the distant cold tone ceased for a short time as she trailed off in self thought about what could have been. Trunks wondered if he should say something, however he was caught off when she spoke again.

"But I know after he had seen you all those times, that he did not regret having you." A sad smile pulled at her lips. "I foolishly thought in my youth that I could get him to be a dependable figure in our lives since I thoughtlessly cared for the man beyond even my father's comprehension. Even though I knew he resented me for getting somewhat close to him, he never once told me after he saw your face that he regretted having you. That was the one moment where I was sure that he still had a heart and if not for the androids to have attacked, I would have tried my damnest to pry our way into it."

After that a deftly silence filled the kitchen for the longest five minutes of Trunks' life. He hadn't expected his mother to feel such things. He didn't understand why his mother wanted so hard to care for him and why it was so hard for his father to care for his mother. He didn't know why his mother even wanted to be with his father. According to what he's heard, his father was not the most affectionate of men. But Trunks could see it even if his mother didn't tell him, or want to believe it herself. She loved his father. There was no way she would have fought so hard for him had she not. The night he found her crying in the Graviton came rushing back into his memory. He didn't think his father deserved his mother's few tears but if she was wiling to cry over him, then maybe to her he was worth it.

Trunks was silent for a while his young mind tried to put things together. His head slightly rose and his eyes instantly locked with his mother's and he could only nod, not trusting his voice at the moment.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the late update, but I have been having electrical problems ever since my ceiling caved in. However, teh power is now officially back on and I will be making regular updates again. Sorry for the wait. Thanks to those who have reviewed, and those of you who haven't, the buttons right there... 


	11. Chapter 11

Nightmares

Chapter 11

To Bulma, that was as simple as she could explain things to him. He was still just a boy so she really couldn't explain such things as 'relationships' with him, let alone one as complex as her own.

She remembered the day all the mess started; the day she had found herself in bed with the Saiyan Prince. She had to admit it had been rough, there was no affection within the act itself, only two lonely people seeking out a release from one another. There never was a 'force' that called them to each other, no mushy crap about they cared about each other and only then realized it. They did not "slowly grow closer to each other" or one day wake up and can't stop thinking about the other. No, it was simply one night they were both driven by the power of lust. She had just broken up with Yamcha so she was lonely and hormonal and Vegeta, well, Vegeta probably hadn't gotten laid since before he came to earth, three years before.

She could remember how desperate his hands here on her, like a drowning man. The way he drove them both with such passion she had never experienced before. His lips on her skin, his warm hands wandering her body hungrily, his heated breath against the crook of her neck, and the powerful build of his muscled body as it pressed on top of her was enough to make her shiver even now.

At first she didn't know what to call it. It was definitely not an act of love; during the entire act he didn't even kiss her. No, it was just unbridled lust that suddenly took over them both. It wasn't planned. It wasn't even meant to happen in the first place. One minute they passed each other by in the kitchen; she goaded him a little and he snapped back with his own fiery wit and the next thing you knew mouths and hands were everywhere and they landed up upstairs in her bed in a tangle of sweaty flesh and sheets.

But never again had they shared a single night of elicit passion. Vegeta had never made an advance on her, and acted no differently to her then before, like what had happened between them never happened in the first place. She knew that he saw it as a distraction, and a mistake. He was more concerned with training and defeating Goku then sharing a life with her, and things only got worse when she found out she was pregnant.

He didn't holler. He didn't get angry. He didn't even rant and blame it all on her. No, he simply stood there, blinking, eyes widening slightly in surprise before he caught his expression and returned it to the forever frown. Then, he simply turned and grumbled something about having to train and walked out the back door.

Bulma remembered standing there utterly shocked at his response. She was expecting his anger or maybe the small part of her hoping for his comfort, but not such brash indifference, as if it meant nothing to him. Not even something worth getting angry over. It made her feel worthless and it had been the most painful and degrading thing Bulma had ever been through. She grew to hate him for it. She fought with him every second she ran into him, which actually was only when he decided to come in to eat and sleep from the Capsule three about once every few days. He was surprised by her sudden spite at first, but quickly grew to ignore it and reacted no different to her like he did before she told him she was carrying his child. She hated him for it. It amazed her that after Trunks was born, that she had actually gone to Vegeta so he could see him for the first time. She remembered that day very clearly.

She was in the kitchen around dinner time, or dinner time for him so to speak because he refused to ever eat with her family. He walked inside from his training, wearing the same spandex shorts and white sneakers and towel draped around his neck he always wore after working out in the graviton. He completely ignored her like always, and walked right passed her to the fridge without a glance at her or the new small bundle in her arms.

"Vegeta?" She called to him.

He didn't answer but she knew he was listening since he didn't tell her to keep quiet and leave like he normally did.

She took nervous breaths and watched as he opened the fridge and pulled out his helping of food.

"I -- I'd like you to meet Trunks." She bit out nervously.

"Who?" He snorted slamming the fridge door, still stubbornly refusing to meet her eyes and acknowledge her presence in the room.

"Your son." Her eyes hardened like stones.

His eyes immediately shot to her with their icy glare that made her shiver on the inside, but she refused to let him see her fear. They narrowed on her just before slowly dropping to the bundle of small squirming flesh in her arms. They rested for a few short moments before he snorted and turned his head and strut to the table to rest his food and eat.

The silence that followed was awkward and tense for her, though Vegeta acted as though no one else was in the room but himself. Seeing him act so nonchalant was making her nervous, not to mention angry. She was expecting him to rant and rave about the child or at least made a slewed comment. But he didn't even seem fazed by the child. As if the little babe wasn't even his. He didn't utter a word and it was making her unbelievably anxious and, to put it plainly, pissed her the hell off.

"Well, don't you have something to say, Vegeta? He is YOUR son." She growled out, months of repressed anger built up inside her.

"I did not deny that the child was mine, Bulma." He replied abruptly.

"Oh," Bulma blinked for a few seconds, surprised at his admittance.

She hadn't expected him to say that. She half believed that he would refute the child and claim it not to be his. It relieved her to some degree.

"We did "fuck" each other like you earthlings say; this usually would be the outcome in normal circumstances, however unwanted they may be." He grumbled still avoiding her eyes, this coal midnight eyes stared at his plate which held a Saiyan-sized serving of food.

Normal circumstances he says? It wasn't her fault birth control pills had no effect again his rowdy Saiyan sperm.

"Um, right." She said confused, taken aback by his calm disposition. "I just thought that maybe you would like to see him."

He didn't answer her and only heard the clanking of the silverware against his plate as he ate. Her eyes drifted down to her baby nestled comfortably between her arms as his eyes slowly drifted open. He began to whimper, and eventually began to wail loudly.

Bulma made shushing noises and rocked back and forth to try and calm the infant but its shrewish cries only got louder. Soon it was almost screaming and, being as she was still new to the mother thing, panicked slightly uncertain of what she was supposed to do to coddle him.

"Can't you shut that thing up?!" Vegeta roared standing up and smacking the fist angrily against the table, only causing the baby to scream louder. Vegeta growled angrily baring his teeth at the woman and child.

"He's just a baby Vegeta!" Bulma hollered holding the child defensively to her chest, glaring at him darkly.

After a few short seconds and calming rocks and shushes the baby settled down somewhat and Bulma made her way to the fridge to find some formula, reading from her parental books she figured that he was probably throwing a fit because he was hungry. After pulling some out and popping it in the microwave she placed it between the hungry lips of her infant. The baby immediately began to suckle and his facial expressions calmed to that of content. Vegeta also seemed to relax and took his seat again, staring with odd fascination at the being as it suckled on the nipple of the bottle almost urgently.

He remained silent and observed the act of feeding the baby out of the corner of his eyes. Though he kept the scowl on his face, and head in front of him, Bulma could instantly see the curious expression in his narrowed eyes and smiled to herself warmly. At least he didn't reject the child.

Grunting after a few mesmerizing seconds on the strange child, Vegeta returned to his food to eat for himself. After a few minutes of only the sounds of eating, gentle patting was heard followed by a diminutive belch from the infant immediately causing Vegeta to wince in disgust.

"Does he have to make that appalling noise?" He growled irately. His eyes rising to stare at the woman holding the child.

"He's just a child Vegeta you need to burp them after they're fed." Bulma said, still patting the baby.

He grunted in response and disgust before he turned his head away again, only to be to hit with the feeling the something was entering his personal space. His head whipped around in shock to see the woman holding the infant out in front of him inches away from his face.

"Do you want to hold him?" Bulma asked, a smile sweetly on her lips.

Vegeta's eyes locked with her as though she had gone insane. Did she really believe he wanted to hold the child? He heard a gurgle and his eyes traveled down back to the babe where he saw a trail of drool running down its chin. Its eyes were the deepest blue he had seen, almost matching his mothers. Plump cheeks of baby fat were rosy like blush. Its small body was fitted into soft cream colored skin, only the faintest tint of bronze. Small hands were only about the span of his smallest finger. The boy's head was covered in some sort of black hat, hiding him from seeing this child's hair. He stared almost mesmerized as the stream of drool drizzled off its chin and onto a growing puddle of saliva on the ridiculous looking napkin draped around its neck called a 'bib'.

Vegeta swatted his hand in a dismissive action, irritation present in his actions. "Why would I want to hold that repulsive drooling creature?" He replied bitterly turning his head in the other direction.

Bulma, being offended, pulled the child back into her arms with a hurt expression on her face. She felt the tightening in her throat and could feel the water gathering her cerulean eyes.

"Oh…" She whispered, face dropping to her child, who was gurgling and squirming about. "I just thought that…you know what? Forget it."

And she walked out, never once looking back, never once allowing him to see the tears that filled her eyes and fled down her cheeks.

While it would seem like rejection to some, the fact that he never actually voiced he rejected the kid let Bulma believe that deep down he didn't hate him or disown the child like she feared. And that led her to believe one day they could try and have a family.

Bulma chuckled darkly at the memory. A family. Those dreams seemed so close at that moment in time, just out of hands reach. However, when the androids came they had taken her dream away. He was still angry and cold to her, and became that crazy-obsessed fighter he always was, ignoring her and treating her like dirt under his boot. And she never forgot his last words to her. The last words she ever heard from his lips before he got himself killed.

"A family? You are no family to me, delusional female, only a means for food and a warm bed. Out of my way."

Her dream was shattered; the fragments of it seemed to pierce into her heart. The cold brush hit her hard, dropping her into the freezing depths of reality's icy waters. He had made a complete mockery of her. Bulma, the independent woman who relied on no man, had been used and broken by the great Saiyan Prince.

Humiliation.

It's nice to think that love conquers all. Nice to read in all the romantic tales how love can survive through anything, and that she would still love him unconditionally even after his final harsh words before his grueling death. That she would pine; ask herself the silly question as to why she still loved him after his utter rejection and betrayal of her heart. But this was reality, and in this reality, his betrayal destroyed any affections she had for him beyond recognition. She hated him. His words sunk deep, cutting into her like a rusted dull knife and slicing her heart into ribbons. No, she could never forgive him for that, and all her love for him shriveled up and died inside, right next to her heart. Vegeta was no lover. He was a warrior, empty-hearted and selfish, only taking, never giving. He had used her, ripped apart her dignity, then laughed at her all at the same time. She was a fool for expecting anything else from him.

Mockery.

In the beginning she had mourned him, cried over his death. But she was still naïve. The nights late in the Graviton disgusted her. She had grieved him many times, cursing him for leaving her with such bitterness, for leaving her child fatherless, for not protecting him from the world the androids paved for him. He didn't deserve any of it. He didn't deserve having Trunks as his son. He didn't deserve having a "family" with her. And he most definitely didn't deserve her tears. He treated her like nothing, something to be used. You can't forgive that feeling, of utter worthlessness.

Degrading.

The truth was, if he right now, was miraculously brought back from the dead and pledged his love for her and recited a million apologies, she would stare at him with disgust and wish him right back to hell. Her love died with him, and over the many years raising Trunks alone in this heartless world, her hate took its place. Her heart was dead to him.

Life isn't fairytales. It's reality.

---------

A/N: A lot of people had questions as to why Bulma was always so sore around the subject of Vegeta, so this chapter was carefully written for just that purpose, and only that purpose, hope this clears things up. I don't personally think her relationship with Vegeta was all skittles and beer and since she didn't have a chance to clear things up with him because he died, she was more then likely left with a bitter aftertaste.

Sorry, no mushy crap, and don't ask me to write it in here either. Sometimes, people lose their love after being betrayed in such a way, and Bulma is far too strong of a woman to hold onto any sort of feelings for someone who treated her like dirt. That's life baby.


	12. Chapter 12

Nightmares

Chapter 12

"I can't …control it!" Trunks' face scrunched up as he tried another unsuccessful attempt to summon forth his power.

"You're not focusing hard enough!" The voice of his mentor Son Gohan was heard over the violent flood of energies. 

Trunks growled and clenched his fists tighter. His eyes were screwed shut as he tried to break the barrier that kept him from reaching his goal. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped off his chin. His teeth gnashed angrily as his body shook with tremors of the uncontrollable energy. Swarming around him was the white aura that flashed and spasmed with every electrical jolt of his power. 

The ground shook in outrage and Trunks' throat burned from screaming. His whole body was trembling with tiny jolts of electrical power. He could feel it deep inside him. He could feel the suppressed power locked away like a ravaged beast, but no matter how hard he pushed, he could not break the chains and unlock its strength. His body felt like it was struck by lightning; every single tingle sent all his nerves on edge. He felt every lick of his electrical energy bite his skin, every pulse of power through his veins, every flicker of heat that flamed his skin. And yet there was nothing. He screamed all he could to let loose the massive power but no matter what energy he summoned forth, it still felt obsolete. Something was missing, it wasn't enough he could feel it. The hidden beast of power was still caged and snarling inside him, refusing to obey.

The roar of the outburst created by Trunks ricocheted off the tree tops and echoed within the canyons. The white energy around him built up and imploded around him in a violent burst of light. The wind swirled with the vigor and caused the dust and rocks to fly into the air. Around them only the bright light of his power filled the area and blinded vision. In the middle of the divine ambiance, Trunks' hair flickered golden, then died back to its natural lavender. The screaming grew louder and the energy grew fiercer. Something inside him suddenly burst into flames. White hot energy seared inside him, threatening to consume and destroy him. This energy felt so overpowering and maddened he had to shirk back in caution. Somewhere deep inside him, he almost thought he could hear the roar of an enraged beast. The pounding of energy seemed to fluctuate inside him, almost laughing at him. The blaze grew too hot and overpowering. He could feel the primal energy slowly slipping into his mind and spelling things inside his small head he would never have thought of before. Thoughts of destruction and carnage flashed across his eyes making him fearful. 

He felt less and less of him managing to hold control and felt more and more of him slipping away, the extreme power taking over and throwing him into a darkened corner. He felt his control on the hot power slipping.

"I …can't!" 

He screamed out in agony and inner conflict, suddenly the power almost seemed too much for him to bear. White hot electricity jolted about wildly, earth picked up, and energy pulsed through every expanse of the area. Then it was all over. The screaming died, the impressive light faded out, color was reintroduced to the world and Trunks was visible within the cratered earth. His breathing was heavy, and his shoulders slacken, eyes wide and shaking. His hair was the same light color it had been since the day he was born. 

Gohan watched his young student as he gathered his breath. Trunks was growing much stronger. The young lad was getting better and better at focusing his energy. He knew Trunks had the power to reach The Legendary; it was only the matter of finding the right key. Gohan had learned his key after the death of his father. He was so angry that he died and that those monstrous androids came and were destroying his world, it broke whatever chains that were holding him. Trunks was not old enough to have suffered the effects of his own father's death, so he needed to go by something else. Gohan remembered briefly his father when he was nothing but a young boy how he got to become a Super Saiyan and he said it came from a severe amount of anger and selflessness. If that was so he needed to figure out how to apply that to now. The question he was left with now was; what was Trunks' trigger? 

Trunks collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. He was this close, this close to unlocking the power he could almost taste it but something stopped him. He was right there, he could basically taste the power on the tip of his tongue but then he felt something else. Something was unleashed other then that powerful energy that didn't feel so pure. When he was about to let loose his power, he felt something follow with it, something that threatened to overshadow him. He could feel some sort of beast inside him laughing and roaring, filling his mind with poisoned thoughts he would never have thought of before and it scared him. 

'What was that?' he asked himself. Sweat rolled off his body in rivulets, his shaky blue eyes focused on the unearthed scolded ground by his knees. His hands fisted the dirt and Trunks' teeth grit hard. 'What was that thing?' What was buried deep inside him caged away behind steel doors and why was it there? Why did it put such impure thoughts inside his young mind? Whatever it was it was strong and dominate inside of him, if he listened close enough, he could hear its enraged snarling still inside his mind roaring angrily as it was thrown back into the dark recesses of his conscious. More sweat spilled off his face and dampened the earth. How could he control something so devastating? 

"You did well Trunks." 

The young boy looked up to see his sensei and friend walking towards him, a warm smile on his calloused lips. His darkened eyes flickered with a spark of pride a teacher would give his pupil when achieved something promising.

Deciding not to tell his honorable mentor of his inner conflicts, Trunks smiled back and nodded. He did not want him knowing that he was too weak to control whatever beast lay inside him. Slowly standing up Trunks wiped the residential sweat off his wet face.

"How about we get some food now huh?" Gohan said, with a bit of a playful smile. "I hear your mother usually makes extra anyway so I hope she won't mind if I join you." 

At the mention of food, Trunks' mind immediately fell off his train of thought and a voracious grin appeared on his face. 

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea to me, let's go!" The two shot off into the air just as the warm pastel colors of dusk covered the sky. 

Trunks woke up in a sweat. His breath was heavy and his body was shaking. Nervously, his light eyes shifted back and forth from his shadow covered room, as if waiting for some creature to pop out and make itself known. Out the window, he saw a flash of lightning, then the roar of thunder. He had _that _dream again. Trunks could still feel his heart pounding heavily in his chest. Those androids plagued his dreams now more then ever. Those creatures and their _eyes, _oh, the eyes! Trunks shivered at the skin crawling thought. Every time he thought about those red and evil eyes he could feel panic and fear wash over him.

No, he couldn't let this happen, he had to control his fear, he couldn't let fear control him, he needed to face them! Trunks' eyes narrowed in determination. His small jaw locked and broadly he gulped down his fears. He had to overcome his fears in order to protect his mother and the people of Earth. 

Leaping from his bed, the young Saiyan dashed out of his room in a rush. With his power-induced speed he reached the backdoor in no time. Without hesitation, the determined youth pulled back the door and was immediately assaulted by the angry storm. The cold winds brushed against his body and icicle like rain drizzled on him. Puffing up his chest, Trunks walked out of the door and into backyard. 

The howling of the winds brushed passed his ears, making it difficult to hear anything else. Barefoot and still pajama clad, Trunks marched with unwavering confidence out to the dome marked _Capsule 3. _He stared at the offending structure with a frown that would have made his father proud, and slowly began to climb up its round surfaces. He could have easily flown, but his small pride refused to let him take the easy approach to overcoming his fears. 

By the time the eerily solemn boy reached the top, he perched sopping in the rain. His once light hair was matted into a dark purple against his forehead and his clothes drenched to his skin. Determined blue eyes stared cloudily up into the raging heavens, as if they alone were the cause of his torment. Trunks narrowed his eyes as lightning licked across the sky in a flash and the angry groaning of the thunder rolled in the winds. Trunks didn't flinch at the sound as he normally would; instead, he stood there with his chest up and hands on his hips, glaring challengingly at the sky. 

"I'm not afraid of you…" He whispered. His gentle voice was so grave, and almost too wispy for his own ears to pick up.

The winds seemed to get louder and howled ferociously, the lighting grew brighter and the rumbling thunder seemed to boom like drums in anger. 

"I'm not afraid of you." He spoke a little louder, his eyes and form never faltering.

The storm seemed to get even harsher, winds became so unbearable they nearly threatened to knock him over, lightning flashed so bright he needed to shield his eyes, and the crashing thunder grew so viscous, the world seemed like it was going to split in two.

"I'm not afraid of you!" Trunks screamed over the storm, his voice shattering over the howling of the winds and stinging rain. Lighting and thunder crashed from the heavens. 

Trunks howled with all his might, challenging the ferocious storm with his own power. Energy engulfed him; bright dancing lights lit up the back yard and flamed around him. Balling his small hands in fists, the young Saiyan boy roared in defiance, building up his energy and forcing it to come forth as if trying to out due the storm itself.

"I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!" 

His roar ricocheted off the ground and shook the heavens, thunderstruck ferociously, but his small voice boomed with determination and pride. His energy consumed him and shot straight up into the sky itself. The bright light hit the thundering angry clouds and caused the greatest explosion of roars to ever emit from the heavens. The grey clouds cleared away from the pillar of light and slowly, began to cower away from the overpowering energy. Soon the grey clouds drifted apart and dissipated into the night's sky, leaving only a whisper from the once thundering storm in its quake. 

Trunks' dropped all his power and collapsed onto the hard paneling of the Capsule. With his eyes still tightly sealed, Trunks' took the next few moments to catch his breath. He had never felt so drained in his life. But then again, he also had never felt so invigorated and proud. The fear he had once felt was now only a lingering memory in his mind. The relief he felt was overpowering. After all his life of being afraid he had finally freed himself of such a heavy burden. It was finally gone, just like that, so quick and fleeting. He felt free, so light he felt the wind could pick him up and soar him through the sky itself. 

Finally facing his fears made him feel ultimately proud in himself. With overcoming his nightmares gave him an outlet to be stronger when the time came. No longer would he clam up and freeze in fear, no longer would he be petrified to the point of speechlessness, and no longer would he hesitate when fighting the enemy.

Trunks couldn't help the smirk that stretched his lips. It started out small, then grew wider, until a small, almost unnoticeable chuckle escaped his thinly veiled lips. It was low and at first started as a rumble in his chest, then, grew louder and bolder until his screeching of laughter reached so loud, the young fighter rolled on his back and grasped his midsection. Tears were gathering in his eyes from laughing so hard, his body rolled back and forth on top the dome of the spaceship. After so long, he had finally done it. After all the pain, and struggle, and anger, he had finally overcome his biggest fear. The thought, for some odd reason, made him laugh harder then he had ever laughed in his entire life. 

He paid no attention to his sopping wet clothes, or that he was freezing cold and could get terribly sick, all he could do was lay sprawled while letting loose more ear splitting screeches in laughter. He could have felt stupid, lying their laughing like a crazy person, but no such notion came to his mind. To him, it was not a random smack of insanity that hit him while his fragile little mind crumbled. To him, he had finally come of age, he had finally proven himself, he had finally become a man.


End file.
